


The Power of a Banshee

by myryry



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3B - Beginning near the end of Insatiable, Allison Lives, Angst, Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Hurt Lydia, Hurt/Comfort, Stydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 64,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myryry/pseuds/myryry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From somewhere far off, a new voice abruptly cuts through the constant noise in her head to reach out to her. A voice that she can’t quite fathom and nothing like the screams that have been clawing at her mind all day. </p>
<p>The voice promises her that all of this will be over soon.</p>
<p>“They’re almost here,” Lydia whispers, “and I don’t need to scream to know they’re going to kill you.”</p>
<p>The Nogitsune laughs in her face, the dark sound echoing against the walls of the small space and bearing down on her. “You won’t be able to scream."</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>The Nogitsune took Lydia for a very different reason.</p>
<p>Stiles and Lydia, Beginning during Insatiable</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because there should have been a better reason that the Nogitsune took Lydia. Starting in the tunnels during Insatiable then diverging from canon from there. Completely Stiles and Lydia Centric.

Lydia stumbles her way down the concrete tunnel, her trembling hands dragging against the walls to hold herself up. 

Her whole body aches, her stomach empty and her throat burning from a whole day without sustenance, but the only choice she has is to keep moving.

Staggering down a decaying stairway, tears of frustration blur her vision when it leads her into a confined, circular cell. Another dead end.

She turns on her heel in the middle of the room and of course he’s right there, a constant threat watching her closely from behind a mask of painfully familiar amber eyes.

From somewhere far off, a new voice abruptly cuts through the constant noise in her head to reach out to her. A voice that she can’t quite fathom and nothing like the screams that have been clawing at her mind all day. 

The voice promises her that all of this will be over soon.

“They’re almost here,” she whispers, the corner of her lip turning up in relief, “and I don’t need to scream to know they’re going to kill you.”

The Nogitsune scoffs and laughs in her face, the dark sound echoing against the walls of the small space and bearing down on her. “You won’t be able to scream.”

Confusion furrows her brow as she watches a sinister sneer spread across his face. He takes a threatening step forward and she automatically takes an unsteady one back, over and over until she’s trapped against the wall, trembling in fear. 

The new voice, that far off tone, suddenly crescendos sharply and reaches a volume so piercing inside her head it feels as if her skull is going to crack under its force. Before she can even try to make sense of it, she’s screaming with such strength and power that every inch of her is quaking with it.

It’s for her. 

Lydia understands too late what all the voices have been trying to warn her this whole time. What that final voice really meant. This scream is meant just for her.

She’s going to die.

The Nogitsune smirks at her in sick, twisted victory and pushes himself across the small distance that separates them. 

She watches as his mouth begins forming precise words that she can’t hear over all the other voices in her head and the scream still erupting helplessly from the very pit of her stomach. He chants faster and deliberately brings his hand so close in front of her mouth that she can feel her own breath deflecting back against her skin.

Her chest tightens as she runs out of oxygen and the scream wavers and begins to drop off when suddenly the Nogitsune’s eyes shift to black just as his hand clenches and pulls back as if ripping the sound straight from her throat.

Lydia’s eyes widen and she falls into a complete panic, unable to stop the scream but needing to breathe _now_. 

On instinct, her hands jump out to grab and shove at his wrist to stop whatever is happening but it proves useless as he remains rigid and focused, never wavering for a second. 

The edges of her vision start to fade, her lungs empty and tight, but somehow the scream gains sound, getting louder and stronger until it’s tearing through her like a million knives slicing her throat over and over again.

The Nogitune drops his clenched fist and instantly all the voices in her head die along with her scream, leaving behind a silence that is overwhelming.

Lydia’s body hovers in the suddenly frigid air and her mouth goes slack, hanging limply open. Dimly she’s aware of the warm, thick liquid that has begun to slowly seep from the back of her throat, over her teeth and lips, and onto her chin. She tries to take a breath and barely manages to get a hint of air before she chokes. Her unsteady feet fail her then, sending her stumbling back into the rough wall and sliding down to the concrete floor.

She coughs and the pain that emanates from her throat is unbearable but she manages another short breath as she watches her blood drip onto the front of her dress.

It’s all over now. She knows she’s lost.

A laugh breaks through her despair and she dazedly looks up at the Nogitsune, smiling down at her and looking stronger than ever.

“Banshee,” he begins before dramatically shaking his head and chuckling to himself. “Excuse my misstep. Technically, that term no longer applies.”

Somehow she still manages to feel rage in the pit of her stomach and stubbornly tries to speak some biting remark but it’s impossible when another choking cough rips through her.

“Figured it all out yet?” he teases her. “I know you haven’t, but since neither of us has time for your oxygen deprived mind to catch up, I’ll just skip to the punch line. You see, Lydia, you actually play quite a key role in the grand finale of this little masterpiece of mine.”

Little flashes of light start forming in front of her eyes and her focus starts to fade when suddenly he is right in front of her. His fingers wrap around her throat and he begins to slowly drink in her agony, his face mere inches from hers.

“To be in full control, I need Stiles dead. To become as powerful as I can be, though, I need his death to be as agonizing and full of strife as it possibly can be,” the demon explains, eyes bright as he feeds off her pain. “And after living in this guy’s head for a few weeks, I can’t think of a better way for it to happen than after your death, which he will blame himself for entirely. Well, at least he will up until he takes his own life- with a little help from Scott, of course.”

Hearing his plan stirs something in her. Suddenly she feels more alert and reaches out to struggle against his hold because she has to fight this. It can’t all happen the way he wants.

“Cute,” the demon smirks at her. “Too bad you can’t speak. It would really add to the whole thing if your dying words could be finally admitting you're in love with the poor, spastic little bastard.”

Lydia tries to glare at him as he finally releases his hold on her, the black lines of his veins fading back into his pale skin, but it feels pathetic and pointless. 

In that moment, she realizes that she does wish she could breathe and talk and admit to Stiles all the confusing feelings she’s been resolutely avoiding since they kissed on the locker room floor. She wishes she could just see him one more time at all. It’s clear now, though, that she’ll never have the chance and it instantly makes everything so much more unbearable.

The Nogitsune rises to his feet and backs away from her, triumph sparkling in his dark eyes as he stands strong over her.

She can only watch, numbness seeping into her limbs, as the black figures materialize out of thin air and surround the demon. For a split second she has hope that maybe they’ll be able to kill him, but it dies away immediately when he pulls out a the thick black object and snaps it in two like it’s all part of the plan. 

Lydia blinks tiredly and they’re gone, leaving her alone to struggle between choking and the tiny bits of air she can manage to take in.

———

Stiles doesn’t think there is one part of his body that isn’t screaming in pain with each and every pound of his feet against the concrete. His lungs burn and his legs wobble beneath him but he forces himself to keep going, fear for the only girl he’s ever loved pushing him forward.

From miles away they’d been able to hear her scream. Even with his very unsupernatural hearing abilities, he had winced at the sharp noise when it hit his ears. He was sure he could never be more scared for another human being than he was in that moment for Lydia. But then the horrible sound kept going and going and the dread inside him built into a blinding panic.

For what feels like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours, he silently begs someone, anyone, to keep Lydia safe and protect her. He knows he won’t be able to handle anything else.

They turn a corner and Scott comes to such an abrupt halt that Stiles nearly runs right into him.

Scott closes his eyes to focus as he takes in a deep inhale to catch Lydia’s scent and lets it out slowly. “This way.”

Immediately Stiles’s feet start moving again but he is stopped just as quickly when Scott grabs his arm. “What? Scott-“

“Blood,” the werewolf mutters, wide-eyed before starting to sprint again.

Heart pounding painfully in his chest, Stiles follows dumbly behind his best friend, somehow managing to keep up with the werewolf despite how weak his body is and how his mind won’t stop going over and over every awful possibility.

They reach the end of a corridor and descend a set of stairs to a barred door that stands wide open and it’s like the ground falls out from beneath him.

“Lydia!”

Impossibly still, she sits curled back against the wall, her head hanging oddly forward, strawberry blonde hair in her face, and dark blood coating her chin and staining the front of her dress. 

Stiles surges forward and stumbles to his knees at her side.

“Lydia! Lydia, please!” He reaches out and grabs her arm, the iciness of her skin shocking him, and shakes her desperately. “Please, wake up. _Lydia_."

Her pale lids flutter and her green eyes open, dull and unfocused, but some relief finds Stiles just to know she is alive. He presses forward and checks her over for injuries but finds nothing other than the horrifying blood dripping from her mouth and the small choking sounds that leave her with every shallow, uneven breath she takes.

“I can’t take her pain,” Scott’s voice cuts into Stiles’s panic, making him jump because he forgot for a second that his best friend was even there. 

He looks over to see the werewolf kneeling beside him and trying to hold Lydia’s limp wrist in different positions to jump start his power. The words replay in Stiles mind and his eyes widen at the implication. “You can’t- What does that mean?! Scott-”

“I-I don’t know!”

Lydia shifts at their loud voices and something seems to reawaken within her because Stiles sees the moment that her gaze focuses on him and awareness lights her eyes. 

“Lydia,” he breathes her name in relief. He reaches out and brushes his fingers against the side of her face to keep her focused on him. “It’s going to be okay. Just hold on, okay? We’re going to get you out of here, I promise.”

Her brow furrows and she opens her mouth to try to talk but only manages to fall into a coughing fit that leaves her struggling to breathe at all as more blood falls past her lips.

Fear grips Stiles as he instinctively wraps an arm around her waist and holds her close to help her lean forward so she doesn’t choke on her own blood. He tightens his grip around her and meets his best friend’s gaze over her bowed head. “We have to go _now_.”

It takes a moment for the words to register, but the second they do, Lydia is shaking her head against Stiles’s chest with as much force as she can. One of her shaky hands lifts and wraps in the front of his shirt and she uses the leverage to push herself up and meet his gaze.

Something about the look she gives Stiles hits him hard and makes him pause. “What? What is it? Lydia…”

Her grip tightens in his shirt like it’s her lifeline and her eyes glaze over with tears that start to slip out as she softly shakes her head. 

Even though she doesn’t say a word, Stiles is able to understand what she is trying to tell him all too clear.

“No, Lydia. _No_ ,” he tries to tell her firmly but his voice betrays him and wavers because this _can’t_ be happening. “You’re going to be fine, okay? I’m not giving up, Lyds. I promise. You’re going to be okay.’”

She chokes on a sob and suddenly she can’t hold herself up any longer, leaning foreword into his hold. Stiles presses his lips into her hair and looks over to his best friend, who has been watching the scene unfold with watery eyes. “Scott, I can’t carry her. You have to take her.”

Stiles has to pull his t-shirt out of her grasp but he grips her hand and brushes his thumb against her skin before tucking it back against her chest. She looks up at him with wide, wet eyes and it’s on the tip of his tongue to tell her he loves her but he knows it would feel too much like a goodbye. Instead he promises her one more time that everything will be okay, trying to convince himself just as much as her, before they are off and sprinting once again through dark cement alleys and tunnels.

His entire body protests more running and he falls a few steps behind Scott but he refuses to give in and stop, Lydia’s well-being the driving force behind every step he takes. The pain and the fear wears on him though and by the time they break out into fresh air it’s like the whole world has faded away so that nothing exists but the three of them and the jeep waiting on the other side of the gates. He hears voices calling out and he thinks Scott is answering them but he doesn’t care. All he cares about it getting Lydia somewhere she can get help.

He immediately heads for the driver’s side and the voices get louder and louder until someone grabs his shoulder and stops him, screaming out his name.

“I’ll drive.” 

He looks up to see Isaac, bloodied and beaten, taking the keys right out of his trembling fingers.

“What the hell happened to her?” Allison’s wavering voice breaks through his haze and he turns and meets her horrified gaze.

“W-We don’t know,” he answers because it’s all he has for her. He moves as quickly as he can to get in the passenger seat but this time it is Allison who stops him.

“Get in the back, Stiles,” Allison quietly orders, a few tears sliding down her cheeks as she motions for him to get in first. “You should be with her.”

He doesn’t have time to process why Allison would say that, just does what she says and maneuvers his way into the back seat next to Scott as quickly as possible. The door soon slams shut and immediately the Jeep squeals to a start as Scott carefully lays Lydia back so her head rests in Stiles’s lap and her legs hang over Scott’s.

Her eyes are shut and he can feel every breath she takes rattle through her chest.

“She passed out while we were running.”

Stiles nods shortly at his friend but doesn’t look away from Lydia even for a second. 

Instead he quickly peels off his jacket before draping it over her chilled body like a blanket. Then, he takes the sleeve of his shirt and gently begins to rub away the blood from her lips and chin. It won’t completely go away, not all of it, but he is disturbed to notice that with the blood out of the way that the color of her lips would blend almost seamlessly into the dull whiteness of her skin if it weren’t for the light blue tint to them.

He can feel her breathing continue to become more sporadic and his anxiety rises each time it falls further off rhythm.

“Drive faster, Isaac,” he orders with a strange, manic calm that he barely recognizes as his own voice.

“Why?” Allison demands. “What’s happening to her?”

The car lurches a bit as the speed increases but it’s not enough. “Faster.”

“I’m trying!” Isaac barks as he weaves in and out of the cars around them on the highway. “Believe me, I can hear her heart. I know we’re running out of time.”

“Her heart?” Stiles and Allison repeat, horrified. Isaac falls silent so the humans turn wildly toward the Alpha sitting pensively in the backseat.

Scott hesitates before helplessly shrugging at two of the most important people in his life. “Her pulse is getting really weak, not pumping hard enough. And it’s slowing down…”

Suddenly Lydia shifts in Stiles’s arms and he looks down to see her pale lids flutter and then slowly open. She looks around the Jeep in momentary confusion before her gaze finds him.

“Lydia,” he breathes her name but it catches in his throat. He wishes he could be stronger for her but his eyes are suddenly filling to the brim with tears.

She blinks up at him, studying him intently, before her fingers jolt and she moves her hand, sliding it up his chest until her palm lays across his heart.

Stiles swears he sees the corner of her lips quirk up and it tugs at something deep within him. He covers her hand with his own, pressing it tightly against his chest. He tries to smile back at her, wants to placate her and distract her, but he can hear her breath rattling in her chest and choking in her throat and it’s scaring the hell out of him. 

Finally, he opens his mouth to say some pointless, sarcastic remark about Isaac’s driving just to break the tension because he can’t handle it but then everything about Lydia abruptly tenses and the words die in his throat.

“Lydia?”

Her hazy green eyes widen as she tries to take her next breath but just _can’t_.

“Breathe,Lydia!” he begs, pressing a hand against her cheek and trying to keep her focus on him as she starts to writhe in his arm, her whole body fighting desperately for oxygen.

He hears Allison scream for him to turn Lydia on her side and he immediately pulls her shoulder to roll her towards him and onto her side. A few drops of blood fall from her lips and onto his jeans but she still can’t really take a breath and Stiles can feel his world crumbling around him.

“Pull over!” he screams at Isaac, desperate with hopes of performing CPR to save Lydia even though he somehow knows it will never cure whatever the Nogitsune has done to her. He has to do _something_.

The car starts to lurch to the side when Scott cuts in forcefully. “No, Isaac! We’re almost to the hospital. We have to get there. It’s the only way.”

They surge forward and Stiles wants to protest but knows in his head that Scott is right. The only hope is at the hospital.

He drops his forehead to rest on her temple and squeezes the hand that Lydia has managed to keep pressed against his heart and holds it there tighter. “Feel me breathing, Lydia,” he starts to beg her as he forces himself to take a deep, steady breath for her to follow. “Breathe with me, okay? Please…”

He can feel her struggling, fighting with the last of her strength to copy him, but she still doesn’t _breathe_.

“Lydia… Please- Please don’t-”

Her lashes start to flutter, her movements rapidly slowing with every second that passes. 

“ _I love you_ ,” he finds himself finally whispering to her, his voice cracking with the tears that are now dripping down onto the pale skin of her cheek. 

Every part of him hates how much it feels like goodbye as he softly sobs against her skin and holds her tighter. 

“I l-love you, Lydia. I love you.”

Stiles repeats it over and over, the words hiccuping and slurring together as she begins to still in his arms. 

He doesn’t know how many times he tells her before he feels hands on him, pulling him up with a force stronger than he can fight. He sees Lydia’s closed eyes and ashen skin and all he can seem to do is cry harder. It’s only when he notices Scott grabbing for her that he realizes they’ve stopped moving.

“Hospital…” he breathes the word a bit like a question and a bit like a completely foreign concept he can’t comprehend.

Scott doesn’t respond and that’s when Stiles notices the tear tracks on his best friend’s cheeks. He turns to see a sobbing and shaking Allison stumbling out of the Jeep and Isaac rounding the car to help her.

Numbly, Stiles helps Scott get a hold of Lydia’s limp body and his mouth betrays him by starting to ask the one question he really doesn’t ever want to. “Is- Is she…?”

They all start towards the hospital doors and Scott doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at him, just starts moving faster.

Stiles’s feet stutter to a halt.

He watches wide eyed from the edge of the parking lot as his friends disappear into the brightly lit hospital doors, his mind somehow overwrought and yet completely blank at the same time. 

Everything fades out around him, the world too quiet and too dim until all he can hear is the pounding of his heart and all he can see is the blurry outlines of his shaking, blood speckled hands.

Gulping desperately for air, his heartbeat quickens to a painful pace, filling his mind with thoughts of locker rooms, wide green eyes, and soft lips.

His vision shifts and he doubles over, nearly falling to the ground before a hand comes out and roughly fists the back of his shirt, hoisting him upright once again.

“Time of death: 4:31 AM.”

Stiles’s eyes snap up to see his own looking right back at him, a sick, twisted grin on the impostor’s pale and chapped lips. Just as suddenly as the Nogitsune had grabbed him, he shoves him violently down into the pavement, laughing as he collapses on his hands and knees.

Stiles expects to feel rage pumping through his blood at the sight of the Nogitsune but all he can feel is utter hopelessness and his own crushing guilt for what has happened.

“What? You’re not going to try and fight me?” the Nogitsune taunts and continues to laugh.

Stiles shakily sits back on the pavement, still dazedly transfixed by the blood on his hands and clothes. 

_Lydia’s blood_.

“No bitting witticisms?” the demon prods as he stands over him. “Not even a tear filled, pathetic threat of absolute revenge?”

Tears slip down Stiles’s cheeks and onto his hands, his mind racing with all the millions of things he could have done differently, done better, to find a way to save Lydia tonight. There was a reason the Nogitsune chose him to possess and not Scott or Allison: he is weak.

If only he could have been stronger…

“This is not an optional conversation, Stiles,” the demon informs him, all laughter fading from his voice as rage starts to seep in. Still receiving no response, the Nogitsune snaps, surging forward and grabbing the back of the teenagers neck to wrench his head back and force him to look at him. The instant he touches Stiles’s skin, though, the veins in his arm run black with piercing agony that he can’t help but drink in.

Stiles can’t even form a reaction to the being next to him and only stares through his constant tears at his demonic clone. Dimly he notices the way the Nogitsune’s veins move with his pain even though it never seems to lessen and suddenly his lips are forming words he doesn’t realize how much he means until after they are said.

“Kill me.”

Abruptly the Nogitsune pulls his hand back, the veins in his arm fading away as absolute triumph swells inside him.

“ _Please_. End this.” Stiles rasps. “Just- Just kill me.”

A grin twists the demons lips. “Oh, how I wish it were that simple, Stiles. I mean, if it were, I could have just killed you weeks ago. Saved myself the hassle of all this drama.” He lets out a chuckle as he straightens himself back to his feet, leaving him lording over the broken teenager. “No, if you want out of all of this, you’re going to have to do some of the work yourself.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ll need to perform the ancient ritual of seppuku. I’ll assume you’re not familiar, or if you are, maybe you’re too distracted with your grief to recall correctly, and give you a short synopsis: you will fall on a sword, disemboweling yourself, and Scott will deliver the fatal blow by chopping off your head.”

A sudden sob rips through Stiles and chokes in his throat.

“That’s right, Stiles. I killed the only girl you’ve ever loved and now I’m going to make your best friend kill you.”

The human dumbly shakes his head, openly sobbing as he looks up in desperation at the demon. “No, don’t- I’ll do it myself. Just- Just don’t make Scott. _Please_.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making requests,” the Nogitsune teases him ruthlessly. “You will do this, Stiles, because even though I went after the person that would affect you the most first, there are still people in your life that I can go after. I’ll kill Scott. I’ll kill the sheriff, too. I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever cared about; hell, I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever met. But I went after Lydia first because I’m trying to be _nice_ about this, Stiles.”

Stiles grits his teeth at that, rage finally beginning to twist it’s way into his utter despair.

“I have much more important things to conquer than your social circle so I want this over quickly just as much as you do so we can all move on.”

Surging forward, Stiles finally snaps as he lunges at the Nogitsune with more force and strength than he’s ever been capable of. He manages to bring the demon to the ground but can only land one solid punch before he’s flung away as if he’s nothing more than an annoying spec of dirt.

He hisses in pain, holding his shoulder as laughter fills the air around him.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for you fight back. It makes it so much more entertaining when you fight back,” the Nogitsune heckles. “Too bad you waited until so horribly late in the game.”

Stiles deflates at the reminder of his weakness, barely able to bite his lip hard enough so it’s resurgent quivering isn’t so obvious to his enemy.

“You have until sundown tonight, Stiles.”

He blinks and the Nogitsune is gone, vanishing into thin air just as he had appeared, while the first tendrils of sunlight are reaching into the purple sky overhead.

Sunrise. The beginning of a new day.

Without Lydia.

His tears start all over again at the thought, though he’s not quite sure if they ever really stopped. 

He pulls himself up to sit on the curb of the parking lot, sobbing as he watches the glowing orange of the sun peak over the horizon, the colors in the sky so beautiful it makes him sick it can still exist.

Lydia Martin is dead.

And by sunrise tomorrow, Stiles decides as an eerie calm begins creeping it’s way through his veins, he will be too.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun climbs higher and burns brighter as time passes, slowly shifting from orange to yellow to a white so bright he can’t look at it anymore.

He buries his face into his hands, taking slow measured breaths as numbness seeps into his bones. People walk past him, shuffling their way in and out of the hospital as the morning begins and then starts to pass but he pays no attention. His mind is too busy making plans for tonight.

There has to be some kind of an afterlife, doesn’t there? Lydia had heard it before.

“Stiles? _Stiles_.”

A hand on his shoulder pulls him from his thoughts and he lifts his eyes to see Scott standing over him.

“Lydia’s in surgery.”

Stiles’s heart skips a beat at the implication of that simple statement before swelling with a hope that shatters all of the numbness that had obscured his pain just seconds earlier. Immediately, he jumps up and scurries to his feet. “What? Scott-“

The alpha shoots out a hand to steady his best friend as he sways unsteadily. “She’s alive, Stiles. I promise, Lydia is alive and she’s in surgery right now.”

“But she - she was- and the Nogitsune said- it said she was-“ Stiles stutters, shaking his head to himself.

“Nogitsune? It was here?”

Stiles ignores the question. “How- how is this possible? I mean, is she okay? Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know exactly- I’m not sure. I could hear them trying to restart her heart. It took a lot but it worked. I heard it beating again. They took her somewhere else in the hospital right after that and I couldn’t hear anything anymore so I waited for someone to tell us something before I came to find you, incase…” he trials off with a small shrug, the implication clear. “A doctor finally just let us know they were taking her into surgery.”

“Well what else did they say?” Stiles demands. “Do they know what happened?”

“No, they didn’t say much actually. They were really vague about everything. I don’t think there is much they can say since she is a minor and we’re not family. My mom knows more, though. I came to get you before she talks to us.”

“Well, then let’s go,” Stiles says and starts off towards the building immediately, but his steps are unsteady and it’s more difficult than it ever should be to stay upright and moving straight ahead. He starts to waver and suddenly Scott’s hand is around his back, holding him up before he can fall over and hit the ground.

“Man, are you okay?” Scott asks, worry edging his tone. “You seem…”

“Worse?” Stiles finishes for him as he forces himself to keep walking. “I’m fine.”

Scott frowns at that and helps Stiles inside the doors, but decides to let it go. “And the Nogitsune… You talked to him?”

Stiles nods shortly as they step into the hospital, stepping outside of Scott’s reach and forcing himself to walk on his own under the scrutiny of so many doctors’ eyes.

“What did he say?”

_That you have to help me kill myself. That Lydia is dead. Or at least he thinks she is._

The human remains silent, giving his best friend a look that says they will talk about it later because now there are more important things to deal with.

Scott reluctantly lets that go as well and leads them to a small storage closet tucked away near the back of the building.

The second Stiles enters the room, all eyes are on him. Melissa watches him with motherly concern, Isaac looks at him with barely concealed pity, and Allison’s eyes well up with tears. 

Without hesitation, the huntress crosses the room and pulls him into a hug, catching Stiles completely off guard. It takes him a moment to respond but as he slowly wraps his arms around her back, he realizes that when it comes to Lydia, he and Allison are the ones who are most affected. She must realize it too because she gives him a gentle squeeze before pulling back and giving him a look that reflects all of the heartbreak he feels.

The two of them instinctively take each other’s hand as they pull apart.

Melissa hesitates before, off Scott’s nod, deciding to just dive right into everything. “Let me start out by being completely honest with all of you; I do not know exactly what is going on. None of the doctors do.”

“That’s comforting,” Isaac mutters.

“What I do know is that when Lydia was brought in she had lost a lot of blood, all of it coming from an internal injury to her throat. But there was way too much blood for an injury like that, or at least one that hadn’t punctured an artery. They had to pump her stomach she had ingested so much of it and it was getting caught in her trachea and filling her lungs. She was bleeding to death and quite literally drowning at the same time. It’s what caused her heart to stop.”

Nausea swirls in Stiles’s stomach at the description, leaving him lightheaded. He leans back against a shelf to steady himself as Allison squeezes his hand and stands strong beside him.

“Did they figure out what caused it?” she asks.

“Kind of, but it doesn’t make any sense,” Melissa concedes. “It’s her vocal chords. They’ve completely hemorrhaged. It’s more than that, though. They’ve been damaged to the point where they are completely lacerated. It’s like they’ve been literally cut with knives but even then I’m not sure that vocal chords would bleed so much. It’s like-“

“Supernatural damage.”

All of them turn to see Deaton standing in the doorway, a grave look on his face as his declaration hangs in the air.

“Supernatural damage?” Stiles repeats, his brow furrowed in frustration at the too simple and yet way too grim of an explanation. “How the hell are you supposed to heal supernatural damage with surgery?”

“You can’t,” Deaton supplies simply as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him.

“The doctors are just trying to stop the bleeding now,” Melissa continues to explain, “so trying to save or even repair her vocal chords won’t be a priority if the damage they find once they get in there is just too much. In all likelihood, she’ll be left with a lot scar tissue.”

“She won’t be able to talk,” Allison voices everyone’s thoughts in quiet disbelief. “She’ll never scream again.”

Suddenly Noshiko’s words are ringing in Stile’s head; the reason the Nogitsune would take Lydia. 

The power of a banshee.

“It was that scream,” Stiles mutters as it all becomes clear to him now. “When she screamed last night, it was so loud even I could hear it and we were still a few miles away.”

Deaton turns to him, interest piqued. “Miles away? Was there anything else different about it?”

“It felt like it lasted for a few minutes at least,” Scott offers.

“And it kept getting louder,” Isaac adds in, “and not just because we were getting closer as it went on. It was like it was gaining strength.”

Deaton slowly shakes his head at that.

“What?” Stiles immediately demands, not liking the reaction. “What is it?”

The vet sighs and continues to remain silent, furrowing his brow in thought.

Stiles loses it. “Hey, you can’t pull this keeping shit to yourself thing anymore, doc! You can’t make contemplative faces and shake your head and keep us in the dark!” He pushes himself away from the shelf and steps towards Deaton. “If you know something, anything, that could help Lydia, you have to tell us! You think you’re protecting us but you’re just making everything more complicated! She died! Lydia died, and even though she might be okay for right now, that could all change in a second because you are too scared that we can’t handle knowing everything!”

Deaton’s face loses it’s grim unease and morphs into a collected calm as he takes the teenagers rant. Silently he appraises Stiles standing hunched over with eyes wild with anger, before deciding to heed the teenager’s words and be as direct as possible, even if he’s not sure he should. “I hesitated because I can’t know for sure, but from what I am hearing, I believe the Nogitsune has severed her power.”

Stiles shrinks back as he feels his hopes starting to crumble away. 

“That’s possible?” Scott questions.

The vet gives him a short nod. “There is a ritual that can be used to remove the banshee power. Centuries ago, it was used often as way to punish a banshee or to send a warning to the other supernatural beings,” Deaton explains. “The ritual removes the power in the most painful way possible and leaves the banshee to suffer in her own silence and silence from the voices of the spirit world until she inevitably succumbs to death.”

“But she can survive, right?” Scott continues, trying to focus on the positive. “I mean the doctors were able to restart her heart so she should be fine now.”

“In theory,” Deaton concedes, “but it isn’t certain. The ritual has always been used as a form of execution, so I would guess there are very few cases of attempted resuscitation afterwards. Banshees are often able to escape death because they can see it coming but the very nature of the ritual requires the banshee to be screaming for her own death. Lydia had to have known she was going to die for the Nogitsune to perform it.”

“But why perform the ritual at all?” Stiles asks. “If he wanted her dead, why didn’t he just kill her some other way and make sure it was finished?”

Deaton looks away, avoiding the question non-committedly, before Allison speaks up. “Maybe to send a message? You said that was one of the reasons for it in the past.”

Stiles eyes narrow on the doctor. “What is the message? You know something else, I can tell.”

“You don’t want to know this, Stiles, I assure you.”

The human’s eyes light with rage and he lunges at the vet. “Tell me!”

Scott jumps in and grabs Stiles, pulling him back before he can get to the vet but he continues to struggle against the Alpha’s hold. 

“Tell me! Tell me what it is or I-“

“There is another requirement for the ritual to work,” Deaton gives in and explains, “and that is for the person performing the ritual to share a connection with the banshee. And while the Nogitsune is not you, Stiles, it is enough you to be able to pull the banshee spirit from Lydia.” 

Immediately Stiles goes slack in his best friends arms, guilt and disgust crushing the fight right out of him.

“So if the Nogitsune did this to send a message, then the message is meant for you, Stiles. It was probably part of his plan for you to be the one to find her as well.”

Stiles blindly backs away, shrugging away his friends as they try to reach out and comfort him. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t deserve it. It’s his fault, all of it, and he’s never been more sure of it than in that moment. 

If it weren’t for him… 

If someone would have just killed him sooner…

“Seppuku,” he mutters to himself as he remembers the Nogitsune’s words and knows exactly the message he is sending him; his only option.

“What did you say?” Deaton demands as he steps forward and grabs Stiles by the arm, shaking him out of his haze.

Stiles shrugs and looks wide eyed at the vet. “The Nogitsune, he- he found me this morning in the parking lot. Told me that was the only way to stop it.”

“No. Stiles, you can’t do that.”

“I have to! He’s going to kill everyone in my life if I don’t.”

“And if you do, what do you think is going to happen then? Do you think that is the end of it?” Deaton demands. “Now that you are separated, if you die, he will be completely in control of his abilities and become immensely more powerful. He’s doing all of this to toy with you, Stiles. Trying to kill Lydia like this and then convincing you that the only option is seppuku- he’s trying to torture you to make your death more painful just to gain more power for himself in the transition. You can’t play into his hand.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?” Stiles shouts. “He threatened to kill everyone. He thinks Lydia is dead but when he figures out that she’s not I doubt he is just going to leave her alone. I’m not letting him hurt her again.”

“Then we need to act fast,” Scott speaks up. “We need a plan; figure out some way to defeat the Oni so we can get the Nogitsune alone… then I can turn him and end this.“

“Actually we might already know how to defeat the Oni,” Isaac speaks up as he looks over at the huntress. “Allison killed one of them.”

All eyes turn to Allison and she gives a weak nod. “It was a silver arrow, like the silver bullet my dad used. When I shot it in the chest, though, it must have stayed in long enough to poison it.”

“Then that’s it!” Scott bursts. “Do you have any more of those arrows?”

“A few. I have enough silver to make more, though. That is, if we have time.”

Stiles nods. “The Nogitsune told me I had until sundown.”

“That’s because the Oni can’t manifest in sunlight,” Deaton interjects. “He’ll have no protection until nightfall, so he won’t attack before then. That should be plenty of time to forge more arrows; as many as is possible.”

“I’ll come with you and help,” Isaac offers as he takes Allison’s hand. He gently begins to lead her to the door, but Allison comes to halt just before they reach it. 

“Wait,” the huntress breaths and turns turns back to face the others in the room. “What about Lydia?”

“She should be out of surgery within an hour,” Melissa assures her quickly, “and if everything goes well, then once the anesthesia wears off the only medical concern should be if there is permanent damage to her throat or vocal chords.”

Allison chews on her bottom lip thoughtfully as she mulls over the nurse’s words but remains rooted to her spot on the floor, unwilling to leave.

Isaac gently tugs her hand, urging her forward. “Allison…”

Sighing, she lets her shoulders deflate, knowing she doesn’t have a choice but to go. Before turning to leave though, her eyes find Stiles’s a few feet away. “You’re going to stay with her?”

“Of course,” Stiles answers without a thought, even though her question catches him off guard yet again. He can tell that for some reason though it makes Allison feel better to know he will watch over Lydia and he has no problem assuring her he will do just that, especially since it is the truth. “I’m not going anywhere until I know Lydia is going to be fine.”

The corner of her lip twists up into a melancholy smile, satisfied with his words, and she finally lets Isaac lead her out of the room.

“So what do we do now?” Scott questions, looking to the veterinarian.

“Nothing much can be done now other than to wait for news of Lydia and try to rest,” Deaton says all too simply, “be prepared for whatever may happen at sundown.”

“Maybe it’d be good for you boys to grab something to eat from the cafeteria,” Melissa suggests. “I promise I will come get you once she is out of surgery or if anything happens.”

Stiles resolutely shakes his head. “I’d rather go sit in the waiting room. Be nearby, incase…”

Melissa nods softly in understanding. “I’ll walk you down there.”

—

In the next sixty-seven minutes, Stiles does more pacing, nail biting, and anxious leg bouncing than he ever has in his life. In fact, his leg is nervously bouncing so fast that his chair is shaking when Melissa finally comes to let them know that Lydia is out of surgery and in recovery.

“One at a time,” Melissa regrettably adds when both boys shoot out of their seats to go see her.

Stiles looks to Scott and the pats him gently on the back. “Give her my best.”

With a bittersweet smile, Stiles nods at his best friend before following Melissa out of the room.

“Now, she’s still out from the anesthesia,” she explains as she leads him down the hallway, “but it should wear off soon. Also, as a precaution because the damage is to her throat, they have her on a respirator until she wakes up.”

“And you’re sure everything went well with the surgery?”

“I’m certain that everything went as well as it could have,” the nurse assures him. “The only thing we’re not sure about is how her voice will fair but that is something we’ll figure out after she wakes up.”

He nods thoughtfully as they come to stop in front of a hospital room door.

“Ready?”

He doesn’t respond, just holds his breath as Melissa pushes open the door.

Stiles steps past Melissa into the small hospital room and his heart jumps to his throat at the sight of Lydia, pale and small, laid out on that big hospital bed. He doesn’t hesitate to cross the room and take her hand, studying the way her eyelashes lay still against her ashen skin and trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach at the sight of the respirator tubing attached to her chapped lips and the bandage at the base of her throat from her incision.

Memories overwhelm him as he pulls a chair up as close as he can to Lydia’s bedside. All he can think of is doing the same thing in the same hospital years and years ago with his mother.

“Stiles?”

He snaps from his thoughts at the voice and looks over to Melissa.

“Are you going to be okay in here alone, sweetie? I could try to sneak Scott in when the other nurses aren’t around.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well let me know if you need anything, okay? And hit the call button the second she wakes up.”

He nods and gives her a brief, sad smile before turning his attention back to Lydia once she is gone.

Alone with her, the room is silent except for the robotic inhale and exhale of the ventilator. He anxiously adjusts his hold on her limp hand and gently squeezes it, studying her pale pink nail polish and wondering what caused the different chips and breaks in her usually perfect manicure.

“Lydia…” he breathes her name into the room and watches her face. It pains him to see it so unresponsive but part of him is still so relieved to be able to see it at all after everything. 

Leaning forward on the bed, he rests his chin in his palm and focuses on the rise and fall of her chest in rhythm with the hiss of the ventilator, his fears easing with each and every breath. He picks up her hand and hugs it against his chest, right over his heart where she had placed it when he was holding her in the back of the jeep. 

His eyelids start to droop with exhaustion and even though he tries to keep them open, soon it is impossible.

“Please be okay,” he mutters sleepily as he looks one last time at Lydia before letting himself drift off.

––––

It feels like no time at all before a knock at the door jolts him out of his slumber.

His eyes snap open, wide and fearful as he immediately begins to reassure himself that Lydia is really okay, only allowing his gaze to look toward the door when he feels certain she is still safe and breathing.

“She’s still not awake?” Melissa asks as she steps into the room, concern lacing her tone.

Stiles furrows his brow at her. “No, not yet,” he answers and feels his own concern grow as Melissa makes her way over to Lydia’s side and begins taking her vitals. “It hasn’t been that long though, has it? I mean-”

“It’s been four hours.”

“Four hours?” he repeats, dumbfounded. “I thought you said it would be half an hour, maybe an hour tops, before the anesthesia wore off.” 

“That’s how long it should have taken,” Melissa reluctantly tell him as she scrutinizes her chart. “I’ve been sneaking in to take her vitals so you could sleep. I thought for sure she would be awake this time, though. All of her vitals are normal. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. She should be awake right now.”

Stiles looks back at the strawberry blonde with fresh worry swirling in his gut. “Nothing out of the ordinary except for almost dying because of a ritual performed by an ancient Japanese spirit,” he mutters, his words lacking their usual sarcastic bite. Instead he just sounds defeated. “I knew there was something more; some reason he performed the ritual instead of just killing her when he had the chance.”

“…Or maybe all this supernatural damage just means she needs more time to heal,” the nurse suggests optimistically.

Stiles remains silent, every worst case scenario running through his mind as he squeezes Lydia’s hand.

“Stiles?”

Reluctantly, he lets his worried eyes lift to Melissa’s.

“It’ll be okay. I promise, there is nothing here that suggests any scenario other than Lydia Martin’s complete and total survival.”

Sighing, Stiles lets his chin drop to his chest as he bites his lip to stop himself from arguing because that is definitely not how he sees the situation. All Stiles can see is that Lydia is still unconscious and the clock is ticking way too fast toward a sundown confrontation that he has no idea what could come of it. All Stiles can see is the many different ways that Lydia could be taken from for good this time.

Melissa’s heart goes out to the teenager as shuffles her papers and closes up Lydia’s chart. “Scott didn’t want to wake you but he asked me to let you know he had to go help Allison prepare for tonight. He was going to stop by the station first though, let your dad know about everything.”

Stiles nods solemnly and thanks her for passing on the information. He can’t help but hope his dad will come to the hospital and, as Melissa makes her way back toward the door, it causes a new thought to occur to him. 

“Hey, Melissa? Has anyone let Lydia’s mom know she is here?”

The nurse stops and turns back with a nod. “I called her once Lydia was stabilized. She was going to try to get on the next flight home but she wasn’t sure when that would be.”

Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes at that. He’ll never understand the relationship between Lydia and her mother; at times they seem just as close as he is with his dad, but at others they are so distant it’s like Ms. Martin isn’t even her parent at all.

“She was very confused by everything,” Melissa continues quietly as she steps back towards the teenager. “You know, maybe it’s time that she was filled in on everything that has really been going on with her daughter.”

“Maybe. Only if Lydia can tell her herself.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Melissa concurs as she rests a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need anything? I can get something from the cafeteria for you if you’re hungry.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t think I could eat even if I tried.”

The nurse frowns at that, scrutinizing him. “You’re still feeling sick?”

“I’ll be fine,” Stiles answers and averts his gaze back to Lydia. “I just need her to be okay.”

“Well, make sure you watch out for yourself too, okay? I don’t think Lydia would be too happy if you let something happen to yourself because you were too busy worrying about her. She’d want you to take care of yourself more than anything.”

Stiles can hear the subtle implication in Melissa’s words. He can’t help the way his lip quirks up humorlessly as he softly shakes his head to himself. 

Melissa furrows her brow at his reaction. “What?”

“Lydia isn’t concerned about me like that.”

“I don’t know, Stiles. A lot has happened in the past couple of weeks.”

That catches his attention. “What do you mean?”

“Well, all I know is that the night you went missing, Lydia was a wreck. She was so worked up trying to figure out where you were that she convinced herself you were at Eichen and had your dad break in to check.”

Sitles’s eyes widen at that. “Eichen?” He swallows roughly and looks down in awe at the unconscious girl before him. How the hell did she know that? It was a dream. All if it was in his head. “Nobody told me about that.”

“Well, there were bigger things to worry about once we found you. But she stayed in the waiting room all night with your father and Scott until we knew you were going to be okay. Scott said it seemed like she couldn’t handle coming to your MRI though. He thought he might have even heard her scream during it.”

He unconsciously grips Lydia’s hand tighter.

“She cares about you a lot, Stiles, believe me. So take care of yourself, if not for you, then for her.”

Silently he nods, worrying his lip and contemplating for a long moment before finally giving in. “I… I guess maybe I could eat something.”

A warm smile curls her lips at that. “I’ll bring you something from the cafeteria.”

He forces himself to smile in thanks at Melissa as she leaves but it fades as he turns back to Lydia’s still form.

“Lyds,” he begins softly but hesitates to say more. There is so much he wants to say but the thought of speaking to her, pouring his heart out, and not receiving an answer makes him feel sick.

He used to ramble on and on to his mother in the last few weeks before her death, once the dementia was past the point where anything could be done. He would tell her every little detail of his day like it was the most exciting thing in the world and once he was done with that he would make up long involved stories about anything from knights and dragons to Batman and Robin. She never responded to any of it, just watched him with dull, unfocused eyes.

He can’t handle not getting a reaction from Lydia. 

So instead he simply assures her, “I’m here, Lydia,” and grips her hand with both of his. He focuses on the constant pattern on her heart monitor, the rise and fall of her chest, and the ticking of the clock on the other side of the room, only pulling his attention away to force down a few bites of a cafeteria sandwich Melissa brings him.

He taps his knee anxiously and listens to the soft hiss of the ventilator. 

His mind twists and turns through every horrifying possibility of why the strawberry blonde before him remains unconscious.

The more time goes by, the more overwrought he becomes. Sweat beads on his forehead and his heart pounds in his chest when he realizes he has another thing to focus on- the lengthening shadows of the window blinds that are starting to creep across the room as the day passes by.

The door creaks open and he whips around to see Scott stepping into the room. 

Stiles instantly panics.

“I’m not leaving her!” he bellows at the alpha before he even gets a chance to speak.

“Stiles..”

“No, Scott! Something isn’t right. Something else is going on!” He jumps when Scott starts towards him and it is only when he tries to stand that he realizes how badly he is shaking. “I can’t leave her!”

“You need to breathe, Stiles,” Scott commands, his own worry evident. He quickly crosses the room to his best friend and grabs his arm to try to steady him, but the second he touches Stiles’s skin, his veins run black. “Dude,” he hisses as he yanks back his hand, unable to withstand the onslaught of Stiles’s panic and pain.

Stiles can’t think of anything but how the sunlight is getting less and less even as they speak and Lydia is still unconscious. “I can’t. I- I can’t leave,” Stiles mutters through huge huffs of air. “She has to… She can’t…” He reluctantly lets go of Lydia’s hand to press his own against his chest to try and stop the painful pounding of his heart.

“You’re having a panic attack! Stiles, calm down! Breathe!”

But Stiles remembers Lydia taught him that he should hold his breath and somehow forces himself to do just that after taking a last huge gulp of air. He doubles over, his lungs fighting for oxygen and he makes himself slowly count to ten. When he finishes, he lets all of the air in his lungs out in a big rush, spots dancing in front of his eyes before slowly taking in a long deep breath.

“Stiles?”

Slowly, he straightens himself to face his best friend, still trying to get his breathing under control. He notices that Scott has his hand on his arm draining his pain again and Stiles gently shrugs him off. 

He turns and looks towards Lydia. “Why isn’t she awake, Scott?”

“I don’t know,” the alpha answers helplessly. “But we’ll figure it out. She’ll be okay.”

Stiles shakes his head and sighs, unconvinced.

“She will, man. I promise,” Scott tries to reassure him. “I’m sorry but we have to leave now. The sun is about to set.”

The human tenses. “Scott…”

“We have to,” he states more forcefully. “The Nogitsune is going to come to you, Stiles. If you stay here, we’re going to end up having this fight next to Lydia’s hospital bed.”

Stiles sighs. “You’re right. I know you’re right, it’s just…”

Scott nods in understanding. “Look, my mom is going to be here the whole time. She’ll let us know if anything happens, supernatural or not.”

Chewing his lip, Stiles contemplates the situation before coming to the only decision he can. He has no other choice but to leave Lydia. He’d hate himself forever if he put her in danger again and something happened.

“Okay,” he mutters shortly before he turns to the unconscious girl.

He takes her hand between both of his, taking a deep breath as he studies her and wishes for the millionth time that she would just open her eyes.

“Lydia… _Lydia_ ,” he breathes her name and falls silent, wanting to say so many things but finding himself completely speechless.

He could very well die tonight. 

So could she.

He shakes his head to himself, trying to clear it and collect himself. He’s not going to let that happen.

He kisses her palm then tucks her hand back against her side.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise I’ll be back.”

He sighs and reluctantly turns to his best friend, both of their eyes glassy.

“Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles grips Kira’s sword between his shaking fingers, digging the blade against his stomach and wondering how the hell it got to this point.

They were all so sure they could defeat the Oni, that their plan would get rid of the Nogitsune for good. But then they had somehow gotten split up and when Scott, Kira, and himself had stepped into the school, they instead stumbled into this strange dark and snowy place.

Bardo; somewhere between life and death.

They’d been fighting too long and were getting nowhere. They weren’t going to either. Not until the Nogitsune gets what he wants.

“Stiles, don’t!” Scott growls, red eyes full of fear.

“What if this saves you?” Stiles shouts, his voice wavering. “What if this saves all of you?”

“What if it’s another trick?”

“No more tricks, Scott,” the Nogitsune cuts in. “I don’t need them anymore. I’ve already captured all the territories on the board. The animal clinic, the sheriff’s station…”

Stiles’ heart stutters at the thought of his father in trouble.

“And the hospital, of course.”

“You- You know about-“ he stutters, his body trembling as he subconsciously presses the blade harder against his skin.

“I know Lydia is still alive,” the demon confirms, stepping towards him. “Do this, finish the ritual, and it will stay that way.”

Helplessly he looks to Scott, a silent apology shining in his eyes.

“Stiles, no,” Scott demands, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t listen to him! You can’t do this!”

“You have no moves left, Stiles,” the Nogitsune chimes in. “I’ve already won the game. Give it up.”

Tears slip down Stiles’s cheeks as he focuses on the blade. He takes a deep breath and tightens his grip, thinks of Lydia as he prepares to push the weapon through his skin, when his eyes catch sight of a text book reflected in the metal.

Eyes widening, he snaps his head to the book lying on the floor across the room, a small pile of snow building on the cover. The truth hits him hard: _this isn’t real_.

He lets out a short laugh and pulls the blade away, a smirk on his lips as he stares down the demon. “I have a move left. A divine move.”

The Nogitsune tilts his head curiously as Stiles throws the sword back to Kira.

“It’s not real. None of this is real! I know it feels real but you guys have to trust me. We have to stop fighting them and get out of here.”

Scott studies him as he absorbs the new information before simply nodding, trusting his best friend completely. He steps forward into the fray first, claws retracted and clenched into fists at his sides.

The Oni cut Scott deep and he howls at the sharp pain but it’s somehow not enough to stop him. He keeps moving forward and Kira and Stiles follow behind, the Oni cutting and slicing at their skin as well.

When he reaches the Nogitsune, Scott doesn’t even hesitate, pushing against the bandaged body of the demon and slamming him into the stone door.

They burst through, stumbling out into the darkened halls of the school with nothing but an empty classroom left in their wake.

In an instant the real Nogitsune is there, wearing Stiles’s face and knocking Scott to the ground with a powerful punch. The demon tilts on his foot and before Stiles can even think to react, he’s knocked Kira down as well.

“You think you can beat me?” the Nogitsune growls, eyes narrowing on Stiles. He advances on him and Stiles steps back on his shaky feet, barely able to stay upright as he backs away, never taking his eyes from the demon in front of him. “You’re _nothing_. You’re nothing but a weak human and you think you can beat me? I’m a thousand years old, you can’t kill me!”

“Yeah but we can change you,” Stiles shouts and both of them come to a sudden halt at the words, knowing the balance of power has truly shifted. “Or did you forget about the scroll?”

The Nogitsune blinks, swallowing uneasily. “Change the host?”

Stiles smirks humorlessly. “You can’t be a fox and a wolf.”

Suddenly Scott appears as if out of nowhere, biting down on the arm of the demon as hard as he can. The demon cries out in absolute agony, twitching and falling to his knees when Scott lets him go.

The two best friends can only stare as the Nogitsune’s body seizes and shakes. 

Abruptly it freezes, it’s mouth falling open in a silent scream before a fly escapes and heads down the hallway in an erratic pattern. Kira steps in front of it, easily catching the insect in the triskelion box and closing the lid, trapping it forever.

Cracks appear in the Nogitsune’s ashen flesh before it implodes, falling into a pile of dust that quickly disappears as if it was never even there.

Stiles lets out a long breath, the room seeming to tilt sharply beneath him as a wave of dizziness over takes him.

Scott jumps forward to catch him before he hits the ground. “Woah, Stiles,” the alpha calls out as he helps him sit against the lockers. He taps the side of his best friend’s face, trying to get him to look at him. “Hey, come on. Stay awake, man! _Stiles_.”

The human blinks a few times, trying to get his gaze focus to on his best friend. “Is it- Is it over?”

“Yeah,” Scott reassures him with a hesitant smile, “I think it’s finally over.”

“Is everyone okay?” Kira asks as she approaches them, carefully holding the wooden box out in front of her. Scott immediately is at her side, checking her over.

Stiles eyes widen, suddenly completely focused and on high alert at Kira’s question. “Lydia,” he mutters, pushing himself to his feet. “I have to get back to her.”

Scott nods and takes Kira’s hand, the two of them following Stiles as he quickly makes his way out of the school.

The second they step out into the cool night air though, they know that all is not as well as they thought. 

Heartbreaking sobs echo off the brick walls of the school and overwhelm them, the raw pain in the choking sound much too real.

Rushing to the edge of the overpass, the sight that greets them is horrifying. 

There in the middle of the quad is Allison, sobbing into Isaac’s lifeless chest, the bloodied remains of the pack standing around and watching helplessly.

Stiles’s stomach drops. 

He hates himself for being so selfish but all he can think of is Lydia. Of her heart and lungs failing in the back of his jeep. Of sobbing against her as she died in his arms for what he thought was forever.

Tears start to slip down his cheeks as he listens to Allison’s cries and he wonders if he had sounded as heartbroken as she does now.

It occurs to him that if the Nogitsune killed Isaac, a werewolf with the ability to heal, then Lydia could very easily have been killed as well.

Scott starts towards his pack with shaky, stuttering steps and Stiles reaches out and loosely grips his arm to stop him.

“Scott.” Stiles’s breath catches on his best friend’s name when he turns to him with fresh tears on his cheeks. “I have to go. Lydia…”

The alpha gives a quick nod in understanding before throwing his arm out to pull his best friend into a tight hug.

When they pull back, the two teenagers share a look, one that conveys all the important things that don’t need to be said out loud. They both just know.

Stiles pats Scott’s shoulder, the only comfort he can offer, and watches the alpha turn back to the horrible scene in the middle of their school parking lot, joining his pack like the leader that he is, Kira following a step behind.

He takes a long breath, finally looking away when Scott reaches Allison’s side, and heads to the jeep as fast as his unsteady legs can take him. 

He makes it to the hospital in record time, in part due to the fact that he ignores every stop sign and red light on his way.

Allison’s sobs ring in his ears the whole way. He can’t get the sight of Isaac’s body out of his mind.

It feels impossible that Lydia could be okay after that. Not when the Nogitsune knew how much she meant to him. Not when it had been so determined to kill her before.

The hospital is absolute chaos when he steps inside and his heart pounds harder in his chest as takes in the blood speckled walls and distraught patients being tended to by frazzled doctors. 

He has to get to Lydia _now_.

He pushes through the hallway, nearly stepping on people as he passes.

“Stiles!”

Turning toward the sound of his name, he reluctantly pauses when he sees his dad running toward him, a large patch of dried blood across the front of his uniform.

“God, I’m so glad to see you,” his father mutters, heart in his throat, as he pulls his son into a rough hug.

Stiles hugs him back, a moment of slight relief finding him at the fact that his dad is upright and okay, but he pulls away after only a few seconds. 

“Have you seen Lydia?” Stiles demands, eyes wide and frantic. “Do you know if she’s okay?”

The sheriff’s brow furrows and he shakes his head. “I just got here a couple minutes ago, I haven’t had a chance to check. Melissa was cut by one of them. She’s fine now, but I was helping-“

Stiles doesn’t wait another second before he turns away and takes off running down the hallway, knocking into people as he rushes as fast as he can towards Lydia’s room. When he finally reaches the correct hallway, he doesn’t even wait until he gets to her room before he starts calling out to her, screaming her name as his feet pound across the tile floor.

“Lydia! _Lydia!_ ” 

He shoves open the door to her room and he swears his heart stops in his chest.

All he sees are empty white sheets, the line to her IV and the ventilator tubing thrown haphazardly across the empty bed.

“Lydia!” he screams her name again as he stomps through her room, eyes rapidly sweeping the small space in desperate hope for some trace of her. “Lydia!”

He’s about to head back to the halls and search every room in the hospital when a loud crash from the bathroom has him whipping his head toward it. Without a thought he is bounding to the door and throwing it open, relief at what he sees flooding him so fast and so fully that he instantly begins to cry at the rush of emotions.

There, crawling out of the tiny towel closet in her hospital gown is Lydia, disheveled, terrified, and _alive_.

The moment she sees him she stops where she is, her green eyes filling with tears as she automatically lifts her shaking arms and reaches for him.

He doesn’t hesitate to fulfill her silent request, crossing the space between them in an instant, stumbling to his knees and wrapping her up in his arms.

Lydia clings to him, fingers curling into his shirt and pulling him as close as she can get him.

Pressing his nose against her hair and breathing her in, his senses are overwhelmed with everything Lydia. From the wetness of her tears as they slip down his neck to how small she feel as she trembles in his arms to the faint smell of strawberries still somehow in her hair from her shampoo, he wants to absorb every detail of her and never let it go.

Suddenly she shifts in his hold, pulling her right arm from around his back and sliding it between them to press firmly against his chest, right over his heart.

He remembers so clearly her purposefully pressing her hand there before, in the back of the Jeep before she stopped breathing, and it’s like every awful thing that has happened crashes down on him at once.

“Lydia,” he sobs against her hair, burying his face into it and pulling her somehow even closer.

She nods softly against him, understanding him without words, and the fingers of her other hand wind into his hair, gently combing through the unruly locks to soothe him.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, holding each other on the cold bathroom floor, but Stiles cries until he’s sure he has no more tears left and he doesn’t untangle his arms from around her until he is sure she’s done the same.

When they do eventually pull back ever so slightly, they settle so Lydia is in Stiles’s lap and assess each other through puffy eyes.

“The Oni- did they hurt you?” he questions urgently as he brushes her hair from her face with shaky fingers.

She shakes her head and he is too relieved to allow himself to question how it’s even possible that they left her alone.

“Are you in pain? Should I get a nurse or a doctor or…?”

She opens her mouth to answer on reflex but stops before she gets a word out, grimacing.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Bringing a hand up, she motions toward her throat as her pink lips fall into a frown.

Stiles falters, his heart dropping. 

“You can’t talk, can you?” he quietly asks but doesn’t need confirmation to know it’s true. The doctor said it was possible, even likely, but he’d been so hopeful nothing permanent would happen to her because of all of this.

The strawberry blonde sniffles, about to dissolve into tears all over again, and it snaps him out of his thoughts. 

“Hey, it’ll be okay” he assures her, quietly but fiercely, and brings his hand to cradle the side of her face when her bottom lip trembles. “It will be, I promise, Lyds. I mean… I mean, you _died_ yesterday.”

He runs his thumb along her cheek to catch a stray tear that falls and his vision blurs with his own fresh tears. He was so wrong about being cried out.

“You died but you’re still here because you’re strong. You are so strong, Lydia.” He slides his hand from her cheek to carefully touch her throat, fingers glancing the edge of her bandage. “This is nothing you can’t handle.”

She gives his a watery smile before pressing her lips together as she studies him. Her fingers flex over his heart and wrap in the front of his shirt to tug him gently toward her.

Complying with her request, he wraps his arms around her again and relishes the way she burrows her face into the crook of his neck and clings to him. Her tears continue to drip onto his skin and he just holds her tighter, gently rocking her.

How much time passes, Stiles has no idea. All he knows is that he doesn’t let go until a nurse comes in and forces him to so Lydia can get back to bed but he refuses to leave her side. He’s doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos on this! I'd love to hear what you are thinking about it so far.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles watches the sun rise through the blinds of Lydia’s hospital room window, eyes heavy with an exhaustion he refuses to give in to.

His dad had stopped by while the nurses helped Lydia get hooked back up to her IV to let him know he was headed to the station to take Scott and Allison’s statements about Isaac. Otherwise, Stiles hasn’t heard anything from Scott or the rest of the pack since he left the school late last night.

Guilt eats away at him. So many people had been hurt and killed because of a demon he was too weak to keep out of his mind. Yet all the people he truly loves, the people he would die without, are still alive. Somehow he is too. He doesn’t understand how that’s even possible. It doesn’t seem fair.

The constant pattern of Lydia’s breathing changes and it pulls him from his thoughts. He watches her brow crease in her sleep before she shifts abruptly, twisting her head to the side and letting out a scratchy, raw whimper.

“Lydia?” Immediately he stands and leans over her, gently shaking her shoulder. “Lyds, hey, wake up. Lydia?”

Her eyes snap open with a soft gasp, her fingers instinctively tightening around his.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out to her quietly, trying to calm her. “You were just dreaming, everything is fine.”

She looks around frantically for a moment before she believes him, her gaze locking on his and slowly relaxing as she takes him in.

Brushing his fingers against her forehead, he softly sweeps her hair behind her ear. “You okay?”

She takes a heavy breath and nods, forcing a smile for his benefit but it doesn’t come close to reaching her eyes.

He hesitates, wondering if he should press her on it, when the clicking of the door opening behind him stops him before he gets the chance.

“Lydia? Sweetie, oh my god!”

Both of them look to see Ms. Martin bursting into the room, a mixture of horror and concern screwing up her features.

She rushes forward to her daughter’s beside, placing a kiss on her forehead and awkwardly hugging her where she’s laying on the bed. “I am so sorry it took me so long to get here! I couldn’t get a flight back here until after midnight.”

All Lydia can manage is a half hearted smile at her mother.

“Oh god. It’s true, isn’t it?” her mother mutters, going wide eyed. “You can’t speak anymore.”

Lydia presses her lips together in that way that Stiles knows means she is trying to hold herself together and he instinctively squeezes her hand, giving her the silent support she needs.

Lydia’s eyes dart to his in silent appreciation and it causes her mother to look his way too, noticing him there for the first time.

“Stiles. I can’t say I’m surprised to find you here.”

His heartbeat picks up and he can feel the silent accusation in her words. That it’s his fault her daughter is in the hospital again.

However, he’s caught off guard when a small smile unexpectedly curls the corner of the older woman’s lips. She reaches across the bed and places a hand on his back in earnest. “Thank you for being here for Lydia.”

Stiles can only blush, finding himself unsure of how to respond. When he looks to Lydia though, he sees the soft, genuine smile that curls her lips while something almost like pride shines in her eyes. It fills him with confidence instantly. 

“There’s no way I’d be anywhere else.”

“So sweet,” Ms. Martin gushes with a warm smile, patting his back before pulling her hand away. “Do you think I could have a few minutes with her, though? I’m sure you could use a bit of a break.”

“Oh, um,” Stiles mutters, trying not to show the slight panic he feels at the idea of leaving Lydia’s side for the first time since he found her on the bathroom floor. “I- I guess, I mean…”

Lydia grips his hand tight and he knows she doesn’t want him to leave either. It feels like he doesn’t have a choice, though.

“I’ll just be right out in the hallway, okay?” he tries to assure Lydia as he stands. She still doesn’t let go of his hand and it tugs at his heart in a way he could never begin to describe. He flashes her what he hopes is a reassuring smile and squeezes her hand before pulling away. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

He has to force himself to look away before he gives in to her pleading eyes and stays. He can hear her mother starting to fuss over her as he steps into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind him. He only goes as far as the other side of the hall, sliding down the wall to sit on the cold tile floor and pull knees up to his chest.

It seems ridiculous but somehow everything instantly feels worse away from Lydia’s side.

He runs his fingers through his hair and drops his head to rest on top of his knees. He tries to focus on his breathing, tries to keep himself calm.

Anxiously he pulls out his cell phone, wanting to text Scott, but hesitating when he realizes he has no idea what to say. Scott was close with Isaac in a way that Stiles never was and never will be now.

Footsteps slowly approach and he looks up to see Allison making her way down the hall, a blank look in her eyes and her hands dug in the pockets of a too big lacrosse sweatshirt that engulfs her tiny frame. 

“Allison,” he breathes her name, voice heavy with regret. 

The hunter doesn’t respond, just slowly comes to a stop next to him before sliding down the wall to join him on the floor. 

“I’m so sor-“

“Don’t apologize,” she cuts him off, her tone leaving no room for argument. She turns to him, her bottom lip quivering as she pointedly meets his gaze. “It’s not your fault.”

Stiles disagrees completely but he isn’t going to argue with her right now. Instead he shrugs at her helplessly before reaching out and resting his hand on her arm. “I’m still sorry that it happened.”

She bites her lip and nods, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Me too.”

Allison looks away, avoiding his gaze as she blinks the moisture from her eyes and Stiles watches her gaze slide to Lydia’s room across from them. 

“She’s going to be fine, you know. The doctor said he’s impressed with how well she’s doing, considering,” he speaks up, trying to remind the huntress, and maybe himself, that there is at least some good news. Neither of them bring up the permanent damage but it hangs unspoken between them.

“Good,” Allison mutters in shaky agreement. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost her too.”

Stiles watches as her bottom lip begins to tremble again as she tries to hold herself together and his heart goes out to her. Gently he moves his hand from where it sits on her arm to curl around her back. 

“It’s just her and her mom in there right now. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you went in there, too. In fact, I think Lydia would-“

“I can’t,” Allison interrupts him, shaking her head to herself before looking wide-eyed back at Stiles. “My dad- h-he’s waiting for me in the parking lot. We’re going to France to bury the triskelion box.”

“Wait, you’re going now?” Stiles asks, a bit incredulously.

Tears finally escape and slip onto her cheeks. “We have to. We have to make sure that this is over.”

“Then you should go in there now and see her before you leave.”

The huntress quickly shakes her head, crying harder. “I can’t see her, Stiles. I know I won’t be able to leave her if I do. I have to leave. _I have to get out of here._ ”

Stiles chews his lip, studying the trembling girl before him. Even though part of him wants to argue that she stay for Lydia’s sake, another part of him can understand what Allison is going through; the same part of him that wonders where he’d be right now if Lydia hadn’t survived.

After a long moment, he gives her a short nod and gently rubs his hand against her back in silent support.

“I’d ask you to look out for her while I’m gone but I think you’ll do that either way.”

“I always will.” 

A sad smile curls the corner of Allison’s lips and she can’t help but reach out and hug the boy next to her. “You’re a really good guy, Stiles. Don’t beat yourself up about everything, okay?”

Stiles can’t really fathom a response when the hunter pulls away, watches silently as she rises to her feet next to him.

“Give Lydia my love. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take care of yourself, Allison,” Stiles calls to her as she turns to leave, giving him a shaky smile before she makes her way down the hallway. He watches her go until the Lahey across her back becomes too small for him to read.

He knows Lydia will be beyond disappointed to hear that Allison won’t be there and it just strengthens his resolve to be there for her no matter what. It doesn’t escape him though that he has been the only real constant at Lydia’s beside and he wonders why it seems like the important people in her life are always absent.

The rest of the pack is understandably wrapped up in dealing with the aftermath of Isaac’s death but what about her family? Where the hell is her father? Why did it take her mother over 24 hours to get to the hospital when she knew her daughter’s heart had stopped? What about all of her old friends? 

Before Allison had arrived and especially before Peter bit her, Lydia had been the most popular girl in school. She’d always been surrounded by a heard of people he’d thought were her friends. None of them had really known her though, not the real her. 

He realizes now that he hadn’t really known her either, at least not in the way he does now that she’s become one of his closest friends. He had just been the first one to pay attention to how special she was, listening carefully to her and noticing things about her when she was still somehow invisible to the rest of their classmates. She changed though and became popular and it seemed he was the only one who remembered who she really was before that. 

But now he knows Lydia better than he ever thought he would get the chance to. He understands that no matter how popular she was, she never really had a close friend until Allison moved to Beacon Hills. He sees the way her parents are never paying attention and always giving her money and presents to substitute for their time. He knows now that Lydia has always been on her own more than anyone, even himself, ever realized.

The door across from him clicks open and Ms. Martin steps out, a smile curling her lips when she sees him still there.

“Have you been home at all, Stiles?” she questions as she scrutinizes him. “You should get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”

He pushes himself up to his feet and lets out a humorless laugh because she has no idea how close to the truth that is. “I’m fine, I swear.”

She fondly shakes her head at him. “That’s very noble of you but the mother in me doesn’t buy it. I’m running out to drop my bags at home and shower the plane off of me but when I get back, you are going home to rest.”

He opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off before he can get a word out.

“No arguments,” she tells him firmly as she moves to step past him. “When I return, it’s going to be family only for the rest of the day.”

He scowls in frustration, the idea of being separated from Lydia something he is not prepared to even think about yet. Her words bring something back to the top of his mind, though, and he can’t stop himself from speaking up.

“Hey, Ms. Martin?” he calls after the older woman’s retreating form, waiting until she turns to look at him expectantly before continuing. “Do you know if Lydia’s dad is coming? He hasn’t been here yet and-“

“And he won’t be here, ever,” she cuts in, her features suddenly darkening. “Before you even ask, he knows she’s in here. I spoke to him right after the hospital called yesterday. Apparently his own daughter being on her death bed isn’t enough to-“

Stiles’s face twists at her anger and the horrifying notion that somehow Lydia’s father would just not show up.

“Sorry,” Ms. Martin offers quickly, stopping herself mid-rant off at the teenager’s look. Her hardened features fall into a mix of sadness and regret. “Just… Just don’t mention anything about him to Lydia, okay? She knows how he is and she’ll realize he’s not coming. It’s just easier for everyone if we ignore it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Ms. Martin pretends not to hear him. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she offers softly, not meeting his eyes as she turns and walks away.

When he steps back into Lydia’s room, he is pleased to see her sitting up some, the head of the bed tilted up to support her. He offers her a smile when her tired eyes find his and she answers by holding out her hand to him.

“Miss me?” he asks with a smirk to try to lighten the mood as he takes her offered hand and reclaims his place at her bedside.

Her lips tighten into a thin line and she breaks eye contact to study their hands and thread her fingers through his. 

To Stiles’s astonishment, he realizes that maybe she actually did miss him in the short time he’d been away. His heart floods with warmth but he doesn’t comment, afraid to disrupt the new delicate balance forming between them. Instead he pulls his chair closer so he can lean on the bed next to her and changes the subject.

“Allison stopped by while your mom was here.”

Lydia’s eyes dart back up to his before flitting to the door expectantly.

“She’s not here anymore, she left,” he quickly explains, not missing the way she falters at that. “She had to, I mean… She…” he trails off and sighs not wanting to have to tell her what has happened but knowing he has to. “I was just so relieved to find you awake and safe last night that I didn’t- I didn’t explain…”

Instinctively she opens her mouth to speak but just ends up wincing.

Stiles flinches at her pain and springs into action. Quickly he digs into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone to hand to her. “Here, just whatever you want to say or ask, type it in there. Just until we figure something else out.”

She takes the phone with a small eye roll and a huff of frustration but begins typing anyway.

_Is she okay?_

Stiles quickly nods. “Yes. I promise, Allison is completely safe and physically without harm,” he assures her strongly. But then his shoulders sag with the weight of what he has to tell her next and he looks down at his hands to avoid her gaze. “But Isaac… He- He _died_ last night.”

After a moment, he sees Lydia’s hand slide back into his and he takes a deep breath before meeting her gaze again.

She holds up the phone again, the same words still written on it. _Is she okay?_

His lips fall into a frown and he softly shakes his head. “No. No, not really. She will be, though. Eventually.”

She nods at that but he can see the way her brow creases and her eyes glaze. He knows she’s beyond worried about her best friend.

“She wanted me to give you her love though,” he offers quietly. “Said that she would be back as soon as she can. It’ll probably take a few days at least though, I would think.”

Lydia looks at him in confusion, her eyes silently imploring him to explain.

“Her and her father are going to France to bury the triskelion box with the Nogitsune…” he trails off as he realizes she has no idea what he is talking about. He decides then that it’s better to just tell her everything at once and doesn’t hesitate to just put it all out there.

He starts off with Isaac’s death and the Oni and works backwards, telling her every detail he can remember about the confrontation with the Nogitsune, being in Bardo, almost performing Seppuku while she listens on intently, her eyes glistening.

It’s when he gets to describing what happened to her that he has trouble finding the words. He explains to her that it was a ritual that the Nogitsune performed on her, relays the history of it as Deaton had briefly told them, and tells her that they are pretty sure she is no longer a banshee because of it.

He stutters when he gets to details about finding her in the tunnels, how she got to the hospital, or why she is missing a whole day of time. He finds that he can’t put into words the absolute heartbreak he felt while her life hung in the balance. Thankfully, he gets the feeling she simply understands. He continues and he thinks she remembers as much as she possibly could about what happened in the back of the Jeep. He can tell from the heaviness in her eyes as she watches him, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as he speaks of it.

Stiles doesn’t bring it up but he can’t help how his heart pounds in his chest as he wonders if Lydia remembers that he said I love you, over and over again; something that has somehow gone unspoken over all these years.

He wishes that she could speak; that he could hear her raspy voice say something back to him in the quiet stillness that fills the hospital room when he finds himself unable to say anything more. Briefly, he even wishes that she’d pick up his cell phone to type out something to him but his phone lays forgotten at her side as she studies him.

Slowly and steadily, Lydia disentangles her fingers from his and slides her hand up his chest until it comes to rest over his heart.

He knows in that moment that she remembers all of it, especially when the corner of her mouth quirks up in a soft smile like he swears it did while she was dying.

“Lydia,” he whispers her name, his voice thick as he barely holds himself together.

She takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes, her hand pressing firmer as the silence around them becomes palpable, their soft breaths the only sound in the small room. After a long moment, Lyda leans forward, pressing her forehead against his.

Stiles swallows roughly, overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotions he can feel radiating off of Lydia. He brings his hands up to cup her cheeks, his thumbs brushing her soft skin.

Something silent passes between them in that moment; an unspoken connection solidifying into something real.

Stiles knows nothing between them will ever be the same again.


	5. Chapter 5

There is a sadness in the air of the McCall house that Stiles feels the second he lets himself inside. It’s overwhelmingly wrong for the home of his ever optimistic best friend and one of the strongest women he knows. After everything that has happened though, it makes sense. 

Isaac had been living there for months. Stiles thinks he had even heard mentions of Melissa possibly adopting him. All of that is gone now.

He makes his way to kitchen and peeks in to see Melissa and Derek sat around the table with a strange man in a suit he doesn’t recognize.

Funeral arrangements.

“Whatever the cost, it doesn’t matter,” Derek mutters to the man, avoiding eye contact with everyone. “Just do whatever Melissa thinks is right.”

“Derek,” Melissa starts, her voice full of tears, “Thank you for…”

The werewolf shakes his head, silently stopping the nurse’s words. 

Stiles can see the way Derek’s jaw twitches and he recognizes the heaviness lingering in the older man’s eyes.

Guilt.

A hand on his shoulder causes Stiles to startle, turning quickly to find his best friend at his side. Scott puts his finger to his lips for him to be quiet before motioning toward the stairs. The two of them sneak away, silently making their way up to Scott’s room.

“They’ve been down there for awhile,” Scott starts once he has his bedroom door closed behind them. “The guy couldn’t understand why people unrelated to Isaac are trying to organize his funeral. Thought maybe we should wait until we found some of his extended family. He didn’t have any, though. He had _no one_ else.”

Stiles knows his best friend is distraught and steps forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry, man. And I’m really sorry I wasn’t here for this. I guess I didn’t realize it would be happening so fast.”

“It’s fine, Stiles, I promise. I’m glad you’ve been with Lydia,” Scott assures him and tries to collect himself. “Your dad told us at the station last night that she’s awake. Is she doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. She should be completely fine other than her voice. That’s gone for good it looks like.”

“That’s too bad,” Scott concedes before shrugging, “but I mean, it could be worse.”

Stiles nods at that, his mind drifting helplessly to the funeral arrangements being made downstairs. “Definitely could be worse,” he agrees, before the corner of his lips turns up into a melancholy smile. “I bet a month from now Lydia will have sign language down and she’ll be on all of our asses for not picking it up fast enough.”

“That sounds like Lydia,” Scott agrees with a weak laugh. “I’m actually kind of surprised to see you here. I was already planning on having to come pry you away from her bedside when visiting hours end.”

“Yeah, her mom kinda kicked me out. Said she wanted it to be family only the rest of the day, meaning she just wanted to be alone with her.”

“That makes sense,” Scott agrees off-handedly, becoming distracted at something else. Running his hands across his face he lets out a heavy breath and looks toward his bedroom door with glassy eyes.

“Scott? What is it?”

“It’s- It’s my mom… She’s crying again,” the alpha explains the noise only he can hear from downstairs. He lets out a defeated sigh and drops down to sit on the edge of his bed. “She asked me to go through Isaac’s things, see if there is anything that seems like it was special to him. Something he had hung on to. Something he could be buried with. But I just _can’t_ right now.”

Stiles nods, sitting next to his best friend silent support.

“I mean, it _just_ happened last night and all this funeral stuff, it’s happening so fast,” the Alpha explains, a tear slipping down his cheek. “And now Allison left to go to the other side of the world and who knows if she’ll be able to make it back by the time the funeral happens. She’d want to be here for it!”

“She’ll make it back,” Stiles assures him quickly, resting his hand on his back to calm him. “These funeral things, they aren’t instant. It’ll still be a few days and if that’s still too soon, we’ll make sure there is enough time for Allison to get back. Everyone understands.”

Scott doesn’t respond, just lets out a shaky breath and Stiles can tell he is barely holding it together. He wonders if it is the alpha in Scott that won’t allow him to just let go for a little bit and grieve.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Stiles starts, forcing himself to sound more upbeat. “How about we finally have that Mario Kart rematch that you owe me from forever ago? Then later on we’ll go through Isaac’s things together.”

Scott furrows his brow, unsure. “I don’t know. I don’t think we should be…”

“What? Distracting ourselves from the horrifying reality of our lives by playing pointless video games?” Stiles finishes for his friend when he trails off. “I think that is exactly what we need to be doing right now.”

Scott laughs humorlessly, giving in as he moves off the edge of the bed to sit on the floor like they always do when they play.

Worrying his lip, Scott watches Stiles turn the TV on and load up the game. “Stiles? Can I ask you something?”

Stiles nods as he lowers himself to sit next to his best friend on the floor. “Anything.”

Scott opens his mouth to say something but it’s a long moment before he actually gets the courage to voice what he’s thinking. ”Do you ever wonder if our lives are always going to be like this? If we are always going to be in some kind of danger and the people closest to us are always going to be dying?”

“Everyday,” Stiles responds without hesitation, a world-weariness to the one word admission that he is far too young to have.

Scott swallows looking anywhere but at Stiles as he admits, “Me too.” 

Stiles presses his lips together and studies his friend, wishing there was some way he could make this easier. The only thing he can really do though is press a controller into the alpha’s hands and force himself to forget how fucked up the world is for at least the next half hour.

—---

The sheriff’s patrol car rolls into the hospital parking lot late the next morning and the second it stops, Stiles is already scrambling for the door handle to get out.

“Hey, now wait a minute,” the sheriff calls as he throws the car into park. “Was breakfast with your old man so bad that you have to run off at the first chance to escape?”

Stiles lets out a laugh and all but rolls his eyes at his dad. “Just ready to see Lydia,” he explains before giving his dad a look, “and you should be glad I’m so distracted with all this stuff or I would have never let you order that horrifying mound of pancakes and bacon, not to mention how you proceeded to drown it in all that syrup.”

“I will never be glad that you are so distracted with this kind of stuff, Stiles, no matter how it affects my ability to eat delicious foods,” the sheriff assures him with a sad smile. Reaching out, he pats his son on the back before pulling him into a quick hug. “I’ll plan to come get you when my shift ends but you call me whenever you want to get out of here and I’ll come get you. We’ll take the jeep in to get detailed when I’m off this weekend, okay?”

Stiles swallows and nods, avoiding his dad’s gaze as they pull apart.

He’d been too distracted to notice Lydia’s blood stained on the backseat of his Jeep until that morning. The second he saw it he’d fallen into an absolute panic. Heart pounding, choking anxiety forced him stumbling out of the driver’s seat to collapse in a shaky heap on the driveway as all the bloodshed he’d caused over the past month, including Lydia’s, suddenly bore down on him. 

Until his dad had managed to calm him down and promised they’d get it cleaned, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to drive his beloved Jeep again.

Sighing, he picks up the couple things he’d gotten together that morning from the floor of the patrol car. He doesn’t miss the smirk on his dad’s face at the sight of the little bouquet of flowers and the small paper gift bag. “Shut up,” Stiles says with a small laugh, his cheeks pink.

“I didn’t say anything,” the sheriff defends with a growing grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles mutters as he get out of the car. “See ya, pops.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

Stiles smiles at his dad and closes the door, standing at the curb and watching the patrol car drive away until it disappears.

The way to Lydia’s room has somehow become completely familiar to him even though he’s really only had to find it a couple times. He stops outside of her door just for a second, giving a quick courtesy knock before he decides to let himself in, unable to wait a second longer to see her.

He steps inside and for a moment a smile curls his lips just at the sight of her, obviously so much more alert and awake than she had been just yesterday. It falters almost immediately, though, when he notices the other boy standing with arms crossed at Lydia’s bedside.

“Oh, great. _You’re_ here,” Aiden all but growls when he sees Stiles, rolling his eyes and scoffing at the human.

Stiles freezes, self consciously gripping the flowers in his hand tighter.

He completely forgot Aiden. How the _hell_ did he forget about Aiden?

Instantly he looks to Lydia, her wide green eyes focused on him from her spot on the hospital bed. 

His mind races to try to remember what the status of her and Aiden’s relationship had been before the Nogitsune had taken over and he’d lost weeks of time. He comes up completely blank. In fact, he’s not sure if he’s ever really known the status of their relationship.

Tension hangs in the air and he senses that he interrupted something, though he’s not sure what. All he knows is that he suddenly feels like such a fool for all the silent hope he’s let build up after everything that’s happened.

Lydia and Stiles are friends. Close friends, of course. Extremely close, emotionally tethered friends. 

But just friends. Eternally platonic.

“Uh, maybe- maybe I should go?” Stiles finally stutters into the stillness of the room. “Yeah, I should go.”

“I think that’d be a good idea,” Aiden agrees, narrowing his eyes on him.

It’s clear to Stiles though that Lydia does not agree with either of them. 

Shaking her head vehemently, her eyes are suddenly watery and pleading with him from across the room. She reaches a hand out in his direction, asking him to stay in the only way she can without her voice.

Something swells inside Stiles, drowning out his doubts and making him stand straighter at the confirmation that Lydia wants him at her side.

“Him? You’ve got to be kidding me, Lydia!” Aiden barks and steps aggressively towards the hospital bed, looming over her and making her flinch back in a very un-Lydia-like way.

“Hey!” Stiles snaps, low and threatening, and strides across the room to stand between the two of them and shove the werewolf back. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

Aiden laughs darkly, eyes flashing blue. “ _You’re_ threatening me? Really?”

“If you think I’m scared of you and your fricking glowing eyes, you have no idea how wrong you are,” Stiles grinds out through clenched teeth, getting in the werewolf’s face.

Rolling his eyes, Aiden tilts his head to look to Lydia on the bed. “Is this seriously how you want to end this?”

Stiles doesn’t look back, continues to stand strong in the werewolf’s face, but when he feels Lydia’s hand wrap around his wrist from behind he knows everything has truly shifted.

Aiden shakes his head as he steps back and sneers at the two of them. “I knew it,” he mutters, fists clenching at his side. “I knew you cared too much about what was happening to him. You were protecting him too much when you knew he was killing people. When you knew we should have just killed him.”

Ignoring the last comment, Stiles narrows his eyes at the other boy. “Get out of here, Aiden,” he demands, his tone commanding in a way it rarely ever is. “And if you want to stay in Scott’s pack, I suggest you work a little bit more on your anger issues.”

Aiden lets out a deep growl, teeth sharpening and glistening as he bares them.

Stiles doesn’t flinch, just stands strong, almost daring the werewolf to attack him. Part him even wishes he would so he’d have an excuse to attack as well.

The bed shifts behind him and he breaks his stare down with the werewolf to see Lydia starting to crawl out of the bed by his side. “Woah, Lyds,” he breathes as he quickly jumps to wrap his arm around her shoulder, helping her to come to a shaky stand on her feet.

The ferocity in Aiden’s eyes falters as he realizes how weak the strawberry blonde is. His teeth retract and the blue of his eyes fades back to brown.

Lydia opens her mouth to speak, but when she remembers that she can’t, she simply shakes her head and settles her features into a disappointed frown.

Aiden sighs and looks at the ground to avoid her gaze. “Look, I didn’t mean to- I just thought that…” He looks up again, his jaw set as he looks slowly between Stiles and Lydia. “I knew though.”

Lydia gives the werewolf a sad smile and reaches out to briefly touch his arm before pulling back and stepping into Stiles’s side.

Aiden’s jaw tightens, anger flaring in him once again at the finality of it all. He glares at her one last time before silently stepping back and stomping away, slamming the door behind him hard enough that the room shakes in his wake.

Lydia startles and doesn’t hesitate to turn into Stiles, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head against his chest.

He holds her close and slowly rubs her back. “You okay?”

She nods and tightens her grip on him.

Stiles can’t help it when he smiles to himself, leaning down to let his lips rest on the top of her head. “You know, it’s been awhile since I’ve stood next to you when you weren’t wearing your heels. I forgot how short you are, Lyds.”

She pulls back enough that she can look up at him, scoffing even as a small smile is beginning to curl her lips.

“Not in a bad way, of course,” he quickly assures her, grinning down at her. “Actually maybe in the best way. It’s like you fit perfectly just like this.”

Her gaze turns warm and before he know what is happening, Lydia is rising up on her toes, kissing his cheek and letting her lips linger on his skin.

His cheeks burn bright pink at the simple touch and he swears that kiss will be seared into his skin and his memory forever. 

“Uh- Um, these are for you,” he stutters shyly. He pulls an arm back from around her, holding up the tiny bouquet of flowers, looking a little worse for wear, and the small paper gift bag still hanging from his wrist.

Lydia bites her lip to hold back a grin as she takes the flowers. Her fingers wrap around the red string he used to tie them together and she delicately touches the slightly battered petals.

“Sorry, I might have squeezed the life out of them a little bit just then,” Stiles lets out a quick excuse, feeling suddenly as if the tiny bouquet is not quite nice enough, “and I mean, I just picked them from our front yard. Not that my dad or I do any gardening whatsoever, but my mom planted them before she died and somehow they just keep coming back every year no matter what, and I thought-“

Her hand jumps out to touch his chest, effectively stopping him mid-ramble. Her gaze is still warm when he meets her eyes again, but there is something more there; something that tells him that the flowers are more than adequate.

He feels instantly calmer and smiles softly at her before holding out the gift bag. “This is for you, too.”

She eyes it a little reluctantly and he feels like if she could talk, he’d be getting some kind of a mini-lecture about not needing to bring her presents.

Carefully, Lydia sets the flowers on the bedside table next to them before taking the paper bag. She pulls a pen from inside and looks at him curiously.

“There’s one more thing,” he tells her anxiously and nods back to it.

The second item is a simple hardcover journal, the cover of it a pattern of flowers in pale pinks and purples. Her fingers trace over the lines of it in fascination.

“It’s so you can talk, in a way, to everyone.”

She looks up at him in awe, her green eyes glistening.

He shrugs shyly under the intensity of her gaze. “A little more elegant than typing on a cell phone all the time.”

A smile spreads across her lips and then she is hugging him again, making his heart warm in his chest.

When she pulls away, she all but shoves the journal and pen into his hands, her eyes bright with excitement as she steps back towards the bed. 

Stiles can’t help the small laugh he lets out as he quickly tucks the journal under his arm so he can help her crawl back into the bed. The head of it is tilted up, keeping her sitting up slightly as she leans back into the mattress and Stiles pulls the covers over her legs.

She holds out her hands once she is settled and he gives the journal to her once again.

He goes to pull up the chair that has been like his second home these last few days but she shakes her head at him and instead pats the bit of empty space on the other side of the bed.

Stiles grins at her and doesn’t think twice before rounding the bed and carefully getting in next to her. He leans back against the mattress and looks over to see that she is already opening up the journal and pressing against the binding to hold it open. He smiles to himself and rests his cheek against her shoulder, watching as she grips the pen and rests her hand against the paper, poised to write.

She hesitates right before she presses the tip to the crisp white sheet.

Stiles studies the way her brow creases in thought. A moment later she starts to worry her bottom lip with her teeth.

He presses his lips to the fabric of her hospital gown where it covers her shoulder.

Lydia turns to face him, a heaviness in her gaze as she looks at his lips, sweeps her gaze across the moles dotting his cheek, then finally meets his eyes. The corner of her mouth quirks up after a long moment and she turns back to the journal. Carefully, she moves the pen across the page as she writes out a couple sentences to him, sliding it over to him as soon as she finishes.

_I missed you when you were gone and the Nogitsune was here instead. I think part of me would have never been okay again if you hadn’t come back._

He swallows roughly as he raises his gaze from the journal to look at her. “Lydia, I-"

Pressing the pen to his lips, she gives him a watery smile and shakes her head. She hands over the pen and motions to the book, silently imploring him to write his response.

Closing his mouth and looking back down at the page, he hesitates, his mind and heart racing, before he begins to write. 

She leans into his side, just as he had leaned into her, and runs her fingers across his sleeve as he writes.

His usually awful handwriting looks even worse next to hers but it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he kind of likes the juxtaposition between the two as he looks over what he has written. He slides her back the journal and carefully studies her reaction as she reads. 

Her green eyes are warm and bright as she meets his eyes briefly before turning back to the journal to respond.

They spend what feels like hours writing back and forth to each other, how long it really is, he has no idea. Their seriousness doesn’t last long before they are suddenly talking about music and movies and books and all the little things that they haven’t been able to think about in what feels like forever. 

It’s honestly the calmest he’s felt months.

Of course, they eventually get interrupted. 

Scott and Derek show up to visit, taking turns pulling Lydia into long hugs and fussing over her well being.

After a while, she sneaks a sideways glance at Stiles, confusion in her green eyes and he realizes that Lydia really has no idea how important she is to everyone. She doesn’t see how much they all care about her.

He squeezes her hand and nods at her in reassurance, a small smile on his lips.

It’s not much later that Lydia’s mom shows up as well. Surprisingly, she doesn’t kick everyone out. Instead, Ms. Martin seems quite content to pull up a chair and spend some time getting to know her daughter’s friends, something she’s never attempted to do before.

As the afternoon passes by, he can’t help keeping most of his attention on Lydia, watching the way she smiles and memorizing the soft, breathy sound that makes up her new laugh without her voice. She adds into the conversation here and there, not as much as she normally would, but some. She types out responses to everyone on her phone and then passes around the device, leaving the journal he bought her tucked protectively at her side in a way that he knows means she is saving it just for the two of them.

Visiting hours end and when he leaves, he presses his lips against her forehead and pulls her into a tight hug which she eagerly returns.

He’s grinning like an idiot when he slides into his dad’s patrol car and he realizes it’s because for the first time in awhile, he has hope. 

It feels like they are actually healing in the aftermath of all that happened with the Nogitsune. He is almost certain for the first time that everything will eventually be okay.

That’s why he’s not prepared for it when he returns the next morning to find things have somehow changed overnight.

Stepping into the hospital room, he instantly smiles at the sight of Lydia sleeping curled up on her side in bed, the blankets a mess around her feet. 

He crosses the small space but as he gets closer to her, he notices that she is wide awake and hasn’t even flinched at his presence even though he knows she had to have heard him come in.

“Hey Lydia,” he calls out to her softly and pulls up a chair at her bedside, his face falling at the vacant look in her eyes. “Lydia?” he repeats a little desperately as he reaches out and brushes his fingers against her cheek.

She stares almost sightlessly past him until she suddenly blinks at his touch, reflexively jolting back as she notices him for the first time. Her green eyes widen in what he swears is fear and he can tell she is trying everything she can not to burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” he all but demands, urgent and worried as he brushes his fingers through her hair. “What happened?”

She sighs and bites her lip, shaking her head at him.

“Come on, you can tell me.” Leaning back, he grabs the journal from the bedside table and holds it out to her in a silent plea.

She makes no move to take it from him. Instead, she avoids his gaze and rolls onto her back to stare at the ceiling.

His stomach drops. “ _Lydia-_ "

“Morning, Stiles.”

He reluctantly tears his eyes from the girl in front of him to look toward Lydia’s mother, grinning as she steps into the room, completely oblivious to the change in her daughter. 

“Morning, Ms. Martin.”

“Did Lydia tell you the good news?”

Stiles shakes his head with a frown. “Lydia hasn’t told me anything.”

Ms. Martin lets out a humorless laugh and rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t mind her, she’s just grumpy. The nurse said she didn’t get much sleep last night but that shouldn’t be a problem once she is tucked away in her own bed a couple hours from now.”

“They’re letting her out?” Stiles concludes, his brow furrowing as he looks to Lydia for some kind of a reaction. He sees none.

“Yes, isn’t that great news? The doctor just wants to do a bit of check up on everything and then she’ll be free to go,” the older woman tells him excitedly, before focusing in on her daughter. “Isn’t that great news, sweetie?”

Lydia lets out a sigh and closes her eyes.

Ms. Martin huffs at her reaction, looking back to Stiles as she reaffirms, “It’s great news.”

“Sounds like it,” Stiles mutters, his frown deepening.

“The doctor should be here any minute though, so maybe you should head out in the hallway until we’re finished?” she gently suggests as she begins to gather up the few items of Lydia’s that are in the room.

“Uh, yeah,” he stutters in hesitant agreement, his mind racing as he tries to come up with some way to get a few minutes alone with Lydia. He can’t think of anything though so he reluctantly gets to his feet. “I’ll just be right outside,” he assures Lydia but it’s like she doesn’t even hear him.

He paces the hallway the whole time he’s kept out, overwrought with worry and over thinking everything. It’s almost an hour before the doctor leaves her room and another few minutes before Ms. Martin opens the door and lets him back in.

Lydia is sitting on the edge of the bed in black yoga pants and a green hoodie he’s never seen before, long hair pulled into a haphazard bun. He wants to smile at the sight of her dressed like that but the way her shoulders sag and her gaze stays locked on the bouquet of flowers he gave her, now clutched in her hands, makes it impossible. 

“I’m going to go bring the car around, okay sweetie?”

The strawberry blonde barely nods at her mother in acknowledgement, but at least it’s something. Then the older woman is off, leaving the two teenagers alone in small the room.

Carefully, Stiles approaches her and sits at her side. “Lydia…”

She closes her eyes at the sound of his voice, turning away from him.

The simple brush off cuts him way deeper than it should but he forces himself to push it aside.

“Something happened,” he concludes, watching her carefully for some kind of reaction. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Maybe it’s something big and maybe it’s not. Either way, I just want to help.”

He can see her fingers tighten around the flowers but she remains silent, closed off.

“But you don’t have to tell me, though, if you don’t want to,” he continues on, his voice rough, because he can feel himself growing desperate way too fast to handle. “I won’t make you tell me anything, Lydia. Just- Please don’t shut me out.”

Her chin drops to her chest and he can hear her let out shaky breath. A moment later, she turns to him, hesitantly lifting her weary eyes to meet his.

For a second, he thinks she’s changed her mind, that she’ll tell him everything. He thought that was what they were going to do from now on. But even though he can see the journal peaking out of the top of her purse where it sits at her other side, she makes no move for it. She doesn’t seek out her phone or hold her hand out for his.

Instead, she untangles one of her hands from around the flowers and reaches over to take his hand in hers, squeezing it tight. Then she leans into his side, rests her head on his shoulder, and doesn’t tell him anything.

Disappointment and worry swirl around his stomach in a nauseating combination.

“You know you can text me anytime and I’ll right come over, right?” he finds himself blurting out because he just has to. “Whether it’s an emergency or not.”

Lydia takes in a sharp breath and suddenly she is pulling her hand from his. For a horrible moment he thinks he’s somehow ruined everything but then she is throwing her arms around his middle fiercely, hugging him as tight as she can.

It’s not at all what he expected but he doesn’t hesitate to rub her trembling back and pull her closer. “Lyds, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

The door clicks open and both of them look up just as a nurse walks in.

“Hospital policy,” the woman remarks as she pushes a wheelchair into the room.

Lydia rolls her eyes and looks to Stiles like it’s absolutely ridiculous because she knows that’s what she would normally do but they both can feel that she is still shaking so it falls horribly flat.

He stays at her side as the nurse pushes her through the hallways. He remembers how he couldn’t even go into the hospital with her when she was first brought in because he was convinced she was never coming out and it hits him hard how lucky he is to be leaving here with Lydia at all after everything.

The stop hospital doors, the nurse dropping the hospital policy line again as she leaves them to walk the last twenty feet to her mother’s car on their own. The two of them walk out hand in hand, squinting when the bright sunlight hits them.

They’re almost to the curb when Lydia’s feet stutter to a halt and her fingers slip from his.

He stops too and turns to her, brow furrowed in concern when she simply reaches out and touches his chest, hand over his heart.

It brings him right back to the backseat of the jeep, to them huddled together on the bathroom floor.

His eyes dance across her face, trying to read her but it’s like she’s not really there. He brings his hands to cup her cheeks, making her focus on him.

She’s trembling all over again when her gaze locks on his.

“You text me and I’m there,” he promises fiercely. “Okay, Lyds? No matter what.”

She nods quickly, biting her lip hard to stop it’s sudden quivering.

Something is definitely wrong. Horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

“Sweetheart?” her mother calls out hesitantly as she makes her way towards the two teens. “You ready to go home?”

Lydia looks to her mother and it’s seems to take her a moment to remember where she is and what is going on. When she does, she forces herself to nod and step out of Stiles’s grasp toward the waiting car.

Stiles rushes forward to open the door for her and help her in. He brushes his lips against her forehead before he leans back. “I’ll see you soon.”

She nods and forces a smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching her eyes.

He wants nothing more than to say something. In fact, every part of him is screaming at him to say something so she doesn’t leave; so she tells him right then and there what the hell is going on. 

With her mother’s eyes on him from the driver seat, though, he feels like he has no choice but to keep his mouth shut.

Stepping back and closing the door, he doesn’t take his eyes from Lydia until the car pulls away and leaves him sick with worry staring after her from the curb.


	6. Chapter 6

When Lydia doesn’t text him back the rest of the day Stiles isn’t the least bit surprised.

Something was clearly wrong and her mother mentioned she hadn’t really slept the night before. He tries to convince himself that she hasn’t replied to his rambling check-in messages because she is sleeping the day away, warm and content in her own bed.

He tries to reach her again and sends her a goodnight text before heading to bed himself. 

When he still hasn’t heard back after a couple hours of his own tossing and turning, he forces himself to resist the overwhelming urge to text her again. It’s the middle of the night and it is entirely possible that she is actually sleeping then.

By late the next morning, the first tendrils of panic start to work their way into his mind. He sends off yet another text, trying and definitely failing to sound nonchalant as he asks how she’s feeling and if she slept well.

A couple hours later and still nothing.

He has the overwhelming urge to go over to Lydia’s house and pound on the door until she answers just so he can see her face and know for himself that she’s okay. It’d be totally justified at this point.

What makes him hesitate is the thought that maybe she’s not texting him back because she wants some space. So much has happened that it would be totally understandable if she needed time to herself to process it all. He knows that is the way she usually deals with things and she clearly doesn’t want to talk to him right now.

So instead, he distracts himself by walking over to Scott’s. It’s only a mile between their houses, a simple route he memorized years ago, but today he takes a different way. A long loop that goes past the elementary school and the park and maybe a certain strawberry blonde’s house.

To his relief, her car is in the driveway along with her mother’s. Looking up at the house as he passes, he can see that her window is cracked open. It’s too bright out to see anything inside, but he can just make out her curtains shifting in the soft breeze. The simple sight calms him some because he knows she’s in there, can picture her curled up under her huge comforter, and he knows she must be safe.

He gets to the McCalls not long after that and sits with Scott and Melissa as they go over the final preparations for the burial and the wake. Derek is there too but he disappears every once in awhile, wringing his hands and avoiding eye contact as he comes and goes. Every second of it is excruciating to sit through but it succeeds in distracting him. So much so that he’s surprised at how dark the sky has gotten by the time he finally steps outside to head home.

Of course, there is still no word from Lydia.

He sends her yet another message, finally asking her to _please_ just send something back to let him know she’s actually still alive.

By the time he gets home, still nothing.

Stomping his way in to his empty house, he heads straight up to his room and slams the door behind him. Mindlessly he begins pacing the length of his room, too anxious to even attempt to sit still.

Lydia deals with things on her own, that’s what she _always_ does. He feels like he has to give her space, let her come to him or to Allison when she’s ready or let her act like it never even happened if that’s what she wants. That’s how these things have always worked. That’s what’s normal.

But how the hell is he supposed to act normal now? How can anything be normal again after everything that’s happened? After Isaac died? After Lydia nearly died too? After he _killed_ people?

He can feel all of the evidence still stuck to his bedroom wall start to mock him each and every time he paces past it. Red string leading to red string, a bunch of pieces unsolved and connected in ways he now sees weren’t even close to being correct.

They were all leading to him. Each and every red string should have connected directly to him.

He snaps and and lashes out, swiping at the wall and sending photos flitting through the air, tacks tinging down to the ground, and string dangling from the pieces that remain stuck there. He claws at it again and another wave clatters to the floor. The few pieces left he rips from the drywall, tearing and crumpling them before throwing them into the pile as well.

Huffing for breath, he glares at the empty wall, a blank canvas before him with a mound of missed clues underneath. He staggers back until his legs hit the side of the bed before dropping down on the mattress, heart racing.

All he can think about is what awful thing is going to happen next to make him fill it right back up again, feeling somehow more and more convinced it will be about Lydia.

Pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking fingers, he checks it again to find nothing.

He sighs and flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling instead of that empty wall. 

Outside rain starts to slowly tap against his window and he tries to focus on it to get ahold of himself. It takes a few minutes of measured breathing but his eyelids slowly turn heavy, his never ending anxiety quickly giving way to exhaustion. He lets his eyes close but makes sure to grip his phone tight first, knowing the vibration from a message will wake him up. 

The rain picks up, hitting the window pane harder and drowning out his thoughts until he finally gives in to sleep.

—

Panic surges through him the moment his eyes snap open and dart around his room.

He knows something woke him up and checks his phone immediately but finds nothing. No new messages or calls that could have startled him. Nothing from Lydia.

“Stiles!”

He jolts at his dad frantically yelling his name and scrambles out of bed. Stumbling to his feet, his body is still waking up as he runs out of his room, steadying himself with a hand on the wall as he hurries through the dark hallway and down the stairs.

“What, Dad?” Stiles demands the second his father comes into view, standing in his soaking wet uniform at the front door. “What is it?”

“Lydia’s out by the jeep. I tried to get her to-“

Stiles pushes past his father and out into the pouring rain without hearing another word. His sock clad feet pound against the wet grass and across the yard to where he sees the shadow of her, hunched over letting the side of the jeep keep her propped up on her feet.

He calls out her name and she barely has a chance to lift her eyes to his before he is on her, wrapping her up and pulling her drenched, shivering body against his.

Her fingers pull desperately at the fabric of his already sopping wet shirt and she dissolves into a sobbing mess of choked, gasping cries that tear at his heart. He holds her tighter as she buries herself against his chest, trying to get somehow impossibly closer him in her anguish.

His eyes dart around in search of her car and he rubs her back as a chill shakes through her. “Shit,” he breathes in disbelief when he realizes she must have walked over in this storm. “Lydia, come on, we gotta get you inside.”

She immediately shakes her head against him and stays rooted to the spot, gripping him tighter as the rain continues to pound down on them, thunder rumbling from somewhere far off.

“Please, Lyds,” his voice breaks as his lips brush her ear. “Please, just come inside with me.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and although she doesn’t stop crying or let up her hold on him in the slightest, the rigidity of her limbs slowly starts to lessen and he knows that she’s giving in. Carefully, he shifts his hold on her so that he can lead her across the lawn without tripping them since she refuses to let him go. 

His dad throws open the door and hurries them inside the moment they reach the house. Quickly, he gathers up a couple of towels for the shivering pair, throwing one around Stiles’s shoulders and attempting to hand the other to Lydia.

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles mutters, taking the towel from him and wrapping it around Lydia himself. “I’m pretty sure she walked here from her house.”

“In this storm?” the sheriff asks, worry and confusion creasing his brow. “Is it a banshee thing or-“

“There are no more banshee things,” Stiles cuts in, not taking his focus from a trembling Lydia as he rubs his hands up and down her arms.

“Then what is going on?”

“Do I look like I know?” Stiles bites back, overwhelmed. “I just- I need to get her warm.”

“She needs to get out of those clothes. She’s soaked to the bone,” the sheriff observes and steps forward to take control of the situation. Gently, he touches the back of the young girl’s hair and she cautiously looks up at him from Stiles’s hold. 

“Hey, Lydia.” The older Stilinski gives her with a warm smile, trying to keep her at ease as he appraises the tinge of her lips and the sallowness of her skin. “So you’ll come inside for Stiles but not for the old man then, huh?”

Stiles chews his lip anxiously as he watches on, surprised when he feels Lydia ease up her hold on him just the slightest.

The sheriff steps back and turns to his son. “She’ll be fine, just let her use your shower and find some dry clothes for her to wear.”

Stiles lets out a sigh of relief, knowing that getting her warm is just a start to all of this, but at least it’s something.

“I’ll call over to your mother, let her know where you are. She’ll probably be here to get you back home safe by the time you’re done.”

For the first time, Lydia suddenly lets go of Stiles, stepping toward the sheriff and grasping at his arm before he can walk away.

He jumps at the feel of her icy skin and turns back quickly, finding the teenager staring up at him with tearful, pleading eyes. The sheriff goes all soft at the girl in front of him and his eyes dart to his son who just shrugs at him, at a bit of a loss himself.

“Lydia, I have to call your mom and let her know where you are. She can’t just wake up and find your bed empty.”

The shivering girl tightens her grip on his arm, silently begging him with her widening eyes. It wears him down easily.

“But maybe you can stay here for tonight as long as your mother says it’s okay.”

Lydia’s mouth quirks up into a watery smile while Stiles breathes out a thank you from behind her.

“Yeah, yeah,” the sheriff mutters, but there’s a warmth to it that neither teen misses. “Now go get changed, both of you, before one of you catches pneumonia. I don’t want to be visiting a hospital again anytime soon.”

Stiles gives his father a quick nod and springs into action, stepping forward and putting his arm around Lydia’s shaking shoulders once again. Carefully, he leads her up the stairs and to his bathroom before rushing off to get more towels and clothes than she could ever possibly need. 

Once he’s sure she’s settled, he heads back to his room, quickly changing out of his own soaked clothes before sitting anxiously on the edge of his bed to wait for her.

Something _has_ to be going on. Something with the ritual or losing her banshee powers or… _something_.

His leg bounces and he fidgets his fingers nervously as he listens to the shower running from down the hall.

Why can’t things just get better for once?

Lydia shuffles through the doorway not much later. Her hair is damp and her cheeks are flush, a lacrosse hoodie and an old pair of his sweatpants engulfing her small frame, and Stiles jumps up to cross the room and hug her fiercely. 

“What happened?” he demands when he pulls back to cradle her face and check her over. 

Her bottom lip quivers and she shakes her head, avoiding his probing gaze.

Stiles sighs in frustration, quickly stepping away to snatch up his phone and is right back in front of her in seconds, holding it out to her.

She glances at the object out of the corner of her eye but doesn’t reach for it. Instead, she presses her lips together as if trying not to cry again and steps out of his grasp and around him.

“Lydia,” he breathes at her brush off, watching wide eyed as she sits on his bed and continues to avoid his gaze. “Lydia, you have to talk to me!”

Her eyes dart to his and narrow in offense at the suggestion that she _talk_.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, don’t- _don’t_ …” he starts to lose it but cuts himself off before his irritation really takes over. He shakes his head to try to clear it and steps toward her, attempting to reason with her. “Look, I forced myself to let it go at the hospital when you didn’t want to tell me whatever was clearly bothering you. I didn’t come barging into your house when you were blatantly ignoring my texts while I was going out of my mind with worry. But this? I can’t ignore this. I really, _really_ can’t.”

Her green eyes soften at him and she lets out a shaky breath.

Stiles takes the last step between them and kneels in front of her, pleading, “Please don’t shut me out.”

He can see her mind working as she contemplates what to do, studying the phone through increasingly moist eyes. But then she turns away sharply and something in him snaps.

“ _Come on_ ,” he groans, beyond exasperation. “The more you refuse to tell me, the more I’m convinced it’s something absolutely awful. I’m going out of my mind I’m so scared something is happening to you! Don’t you see that? Whatever is going on, I just want to help. For your safety and my sanity, I need you to be okay. But if you won’t tell me anything, then I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

She sniffles and gazes back at him, tears slipping down her cheeks, and finally takes the phone from his hand.

_Do you want me leave?_

Stiles lets out a low sigh, helplessly softening at her question and the terrified look in her eyes. “No. No, of course not,” he quietly assure her, touching her cheek to brush away some of her tears. “I’m just not sure what to do here, Lyds. ”

She bites her lip and studies him through her tears, gaze clouded by too many emotions for Stiles to decipher. After a long moment she reaches up with trembling fingers and takes his hand from where it rests on her cheek to clasp it tight. She pulls on it then, tugging him toward her as she starts to shift further back on the mattress, silently imploring him to join her on his bed.

He contemplates resisting, continuing to argue, but her wide, pleading eyes win him over and he gives in, crawling into his bed next to her.

They settle on their sides, gazes locking across the mere inches between them. Lydia sniffles and reaches out to him, sliding her hand to rest across his heart and it’s like the tension in her body instantly starts to fade. She closes her eyes and lets out a long breath of content as her palm presses firmly against the front of his t-shirt.

His emotions swell at the simple yet intimate act that is growing to be achingly familiar. Voice shaky, he whispers, “Why do you do that?”

She blinks her eyes open again at the question, her gaze warm as it drifts across his face. A tired smile curls her lips and she opens her mouth as if to answer but stops herself when she remembers she can’t. So instead, she answers him by leaning across the short distance between them to press her lips to his.

It’s a simple kiss, her chapped lips lingering against his, but his eyes still widen and he still holds his breath because it’s _Lydia_.

She’s blushing when she pulls back much too soon, her bright green eyes regarding him in fascination.

He knows she must be able to feel how hard his heart is pounding in his chest because his heartbeat throbbing in his ears is suddenly all he can hear. He watches transfixed as her tongue darts out and swipes across her lower lip and something about the unconscious movement sends him surging forward to kiss her again.

His fingers cup her cheeks then slide to tangle in her damp hair, holding her steady as he moves his lips against hers in urgency, needing and wanting more. His senses are overwhelmed with her, especially when she responds by shifting closer, pressing herself to him as he brushes his tongue against hers.

He can feel her pulse quicken, so fast and so close that soon he can’t really tell which heartbeat is his and which is hers.

This time it’s him that stops the kiss once his lungs are too desperate for oxygen to keep going. 

Lydia is panting just as hard as he is after, her breath warm and fast against his lips, then skimming his jaw when she turns to bury her face into his neck while her hand trails from his heart to wrap around his back so she can snuggle into him even closer.

There are so many things running through his head that he wants to say to her but he can’t seem to formulate the words, partly because the easy silence that surrounds them is so comfortable and warm that he doesn’t want to break it. Mostly though it’s because it all feels like too much, too soon.

So instead of talking, he finds himself focusing on Lydia. As time passes, he slowly becomes aware of the fact that the longer he holds her, the calmer she seems to get. Eventually her body stops it’s constant trembling, the tear tracks on her cheeks fade away, and her breathing evens out, all while her fingers slowly trace across his back. 

It seems too surreal to be true but it hits him then that she might have shown up at his house tonight because she wanted this. She just wanted to be close to him.

His fingers tremble at the thought as he runs them through her hair, his lips pressing tenderly against her temple.

The storm outside keeps up its tapping against the windows but Stiles doesn’t need the constant sound to fall asleep now. It’s Lydia that relaxes him and eases him with her warmth.

In the end, Stiles lets himself drift off to the feel of her gentle breath against his neck and her fingers idling back and forth between his shoulder blades.


	7. Chapter 7

“You know, this is the way Scott and I used to walk to school together when we were kids.”

Hand in hand, the two of them leisurely make their way down the sidewalk, the late-morning skies still grey overhead. The storm had fallen away not long before, leaving behind puddle pocked roads and a cool breeze that has Lydia nuzzling into the hoodie still swallowing up her small frame. 

Stiles had offered to drive them to her house after they’d finished breakfast, knowing she needs a dose of the pain meds she’d been given at the hospital and something to wear other than his old clothes. She’d just shaken her head and pulled him in the direction of her house, seeming just as eager to avoid the bloodstained Jeep as him.

“I still remember the day I realized which house was yours,” he admits with a shy smile as he continues the rambling he’d kept up the whole walk so far, “It was in third grade, just a few weeks into school. You were sitting on the front steps reading this old, worn out book that had more pages than any book I’d ever even seen.”

Lydia glances up at him with a growing smile.

“Then your dad came out and you gathered up your book and your backpack and your lunchbox in a big rush and ran after him to his car.” 

Her face falls as he continues, her gaze thoughtful when she turns away to look at the passing houses.

“We saw you sitting on the steps reading almost everyday after that, waiting for your dad to take you to school. Once we were past your house enough that I couldn’t see you anymore, I’d watch all the cars that went by until I saw yours.”

She seems distant then and he thinks for a moment that maybe he should ask about her dad. It’s the first time anyone has mentioned him that Stiles knows of but he remembers her mother’s words from the hospital and all the other things that Lydia is currently not opening up about and decides against it. Instead, as they turn onto her street, he lets go of her hand and wraps his arm around her shoulders, hugging her into his side.

“I always thought about asking you if you wanted to walk with us. I was too shy around you to actually go through with it though. I guess I had already become helpless at the Lydia Martin-mystique.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes but when she looks back up at him, there’s a crooked smile on her lips just as he’d hoped.

The house finally comes into view and both of them falter for a moment at the familiar black car parked out front.

Before Stiles can react, Lydia is already darting out of his hold and rushing down the last bit of sidewalk, leaving him to follow behind her.

Allison is pacing by the front door with her phone pressed to her ear and worry creasing her brow when they turn up the driveway. She spots the two of them immediately and the tension in her shoulders releases, her features easing with relief at the sight of her best friend alive and well.

“Lydia, thank god,” the huntress cries out and hurries across the yard to meet her best friend halfway.

Stiles lets Lydia get ahead of him, gradually losing speed as the two girls collide desperately in the middle of the driveway. Flooded with melancholy, his feet come to a stop a few steps away from where the two cling to one another.

“I was so worried.” The huntress sniffles, holding tighter to her best friend as tears slide down her cheeks. “I text you like a million times but you never replied and I just…”

Allison trails off into sobs and Lydia rubs her back while holding her tighter.

The brunette starts muttering a bunch of things through her tears that Stiles can’t quite make out but he hears her mutter _Isaac_ and his heart breaks for her. He instantly feels like an intruder on their private moment and steps back to give the girls some space. Walking to lean against the trunk of Allison’s car, his mind races with guilt at the whimpering cries that continue to ring out behind him.

It feels like forever before a hand on his arm makes him jump back to reality. He turns to Lydia suddenly at his side, her eyes red and shining with the remnants of tears. Shifting his gaze helplessly back to the house, he frowns when he sees the huntress making her way inside, her head bowed and shoulders shaking.

“I should go,” he decides quietly, turning back to the strawberry blonde, “give you guys some time.”

Lydia reluctantly nods, shaking a few tears loose.

He reaches out to brush them away, smiling at her sadly. “Just give Allison my best, okay?”

Eyes growing somehow wetter, she suddenly reaches out for him. Weakly she tugs on the front of his shirt to bring him down to her level and press her lips against his in a brief, soft kiss.

“Lyds,” he breathes shakily, caught off guard and stirred by the sudden kiss. He touches his forehead to hers, studying her pale skin and long lashes from so close and trying to soak in as much as he can before she lets her eyes flutter open and steps back.

“Text me if you need me.”

She nods at his request, affectionately patting his chest before turning away to head toward the house. 

He waits and watches to make sure she gets in, sending her a reassuring smile when she looks back one last time before disappearing inside.

—

He doesn’t see Lydia again until they are all gathered at the cemetery the next day under a sky too bright and blue for an event like this.

He doesn’t get the chance to talk to her before the ceremony starts, the two of them barely able to exchange sad smiles before following after their respective best friends to sit on opposite sides of the service. 

Lydia doesn’t look at him once after that. Really she doesn’t look at anything but the coffin.

Stiles notices this because of course he can’t stop watching her. He notices how tired and unusually disheveled she is, completely unlike the carefully put together girl he’s known most of his life. Judging from her appearance, he sincerely doubts she’s slept at all since he saw her yesterday but there’s something more to it than that. It’s almost as if she’s not really there all the way, her green eyes too haunted and unfocused.

He wonders if Lydia is thinking the same thing he is; that this could have so easily been her funeral instead of Isaac’s.

Allison steps forward and Lydia snaps back to reality, hesitantly releasing the huntress’s hand.

The pastor walks over and hands Allison a white rose and tears fall faster down her cheeks as she takes it. With shaky steps she approaches the coffin and lays the flower across the solid wood. She doesn’t step back though, freezing up as she stands over it, transfixed on that flower as her tears fall faster and faster.

Lydia moves to her best friend’s side quickly, wrapping her arms around her in a steadying hug.

Instinctively, Stiles’s eyes move to his own best friend in time to see him cracking, his tears falling fast and heavy. The alpha drops his head into his hands and Stiles rests a hand on his shaking back, slowly rubbing it in support.

After a few long minutes pass, Argent can’t seem to stand by any longer and steps forward to gently usher the girls away from the coffin and then the ceremony altogether. 

One by one, everyone important in Isaac’s life takes their turn to step up and lay a rose across the casket and say their own silent goodbyes.

When Stiles steps forward, all he can think is _I’m sorry_.

He doesn’t leave Scott’s side for a second after that. He hugs Melissa tight and stays with the McCalls as they collect themselves, even exchanges a few stilted words with a stony Derek when he comes over to say hello. 

By the time they make their way to the parking lot, Argent’s SUV is gone, Lydia gone along with it.

——

The gathering at the McCall house afterwards is just as bleak as the funeral. Melissa obviously went all out for it but no matter how good the food is, there isn’t anything that could make the day bearable.

“We should take them something to eat,” Scott suggests with a nod toward Allison and Lydia where they sit huddled together in the corner.

Kira anxiously looks across the room before agreeing much too brightly, “Yeah, that’s a great idea, Scott.”

Stiles has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, simply shrugging instead. He can barely think about eating anything right now and he doubts the girls can either.

“Great! I’ll go get them drinks. You guys make them plates,” Kira offers with an anxious grin and then she is off in search of beverages.

This time Stiles can’t help it when he rolls his eyes after the girl. He expects Scott to scold him like he usually does but he either chooses not to acknowledge it or is too distracted to even notice it right now.

Shuffling over to the buffet, each of them grab a plate and pick at what is available. They don’t have to decide who is getting food for which girl, it’s just natural that Stiles gets together a small assortment of things he knows Lydia would like and Scott does the same for Allison.

They make their way over to the girls and Allison goes quiet as they approach.

“We, uh, noticed you guys hadn’t gotten any food yet, so…” Scott begins nervously as he holds out the plate for Allison.

Stiles offers Lydia a half smile and hands over her plate as well.

The hunter smiles sadly, her gaze going soft as she looks up at Scott with watery eyes. “Thank you.”

Scott gives her a soft smile back, eyes roaming her face like he’s trying to read her and decipher for himself how she’s really doing.

Silence falls between the four of them, quickly growing awkward for the banshee and the human as Scott and Allison remain locked on each other as if they are the only ones in the room.

Stiles and Lydia share a look and suddenly the strawberry blonde is setting aside her plate and pushing herself up from her seat to grab Stiles’s hand.

“Oh, I guess we are going to, um,” Stiles starts to excuse himself as Lydia pulls him away until he realizes Allison and Scott aren’t paying attention to them at all and the alpha is already moving to take the spot Lydia just vacated. “Yeah, okay.”

Stiles lets himself be lead through the house, politely nodding at the couple people they pass as Lydia takes them upstairs and away from it all.

She comes to a stop once they are alone in the upstairs hallway, far enough away that they can’t hear anything from the small gathering downstairs. The sun is seeping into the hallway from the adjoining rooms, leaving the light hazy and warm around them.

She steps into him like she’s been waiting to all day, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against chest.

For some reason, his natural instinct to ramble just to fill the silence doesn’t kick in then. It's like he's starting to get used to the fact that she can’t speak and they can’t banter back and forth the way they used to. 

With a sigh and a weak smile, he snakes his arms around her and presses his lips into her hair. 

He thinks that maybe he can be okay with the silence when he’s with her.

They naturally start to sway together, content to simply let the time pass. It’s so comfortable and quiet and warm they can almost pretend for a moment that nothing exists outside of them and this small space.

She stifles a yawn against the shoulder of his suit jacket and despite her attempt to hide it, it catches his attention immediately.

“Tired?”

Nodding, she pulls back just enough to meet his warm gaze.

Carefully, he appraises the dark bags under her eyes that she’s trying and failing to hide with make up, seeing them so much clearer now that they’re so close. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

She shrugs, moving her fingers to fidget with his tie while she avoids the question.

Of course it worries him. He can’t really deny though that insomnia isn’t exactly unusual around here. “I didn’t really sleep at all either,” he finds himself quietly admitting. “Actually, I think the only time I’ve really been able to sleep since- since _everything_ is when you were there.”

She looks up at that, green eyes hazy as she quirks up the corner of her mouth at him. Letting go of his tie, she slides her hand up his chest to rest on his heart in that way of hers that makes him feel so overwhelmed with memories of her dying in his arms.

Swallowing thickly, he can’t help it when he whispers to her, voice low and rough, “If that had been for you today…”

Her face falls, eyes suddenly shining as they dart back and forth across his face.

His lower lip trembles and he can’t bear to finish his thought, so instead he holds her hand on his heart and presses it there tight.

She flattens her lips into a thin line to keep the tears at bay and leans into him again, burrowing her face against the fabric of his shirt.

He holds her close, trying to stay calm by focusing on her steady breath against his skin and assuring himself that she’s _really_ there. She survived.

“Lydia? Stiles?”

Neither of them are ready to let go yet so they pull back just enough to see Scott stepping into the hallway from the stairs.

The alpha pauses, mouth dumbly falling open as he gapes at the two of them and tries to process if he’s really seeing what he thinks he is. A grin slowly curls his lips as the seconds tick by. 

“You need something, Scott?” Stiles finally asks, his tone edged with an unspoken warning to his best friend not to embarrass him right now.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Scott mutters, suddenly remembering himself. “Allison is looking for you, Lydia. I think her and her dad are ready to go.”

The strawberry blonde nods but is hesitant when she turns back to Stiles as if she isn’t sure what to do with Scott there watching. So Stiles decides for her, leaning down to kiss her cheek before squeezing her hand and letting it go.

“I’ll see you soon.”

She slowly nods again, smiling shyly up at him before stepping out of his arms and turning away. Making her way toward the stairs, she stops to pull Scott into a tight hug before leaving the two boys alone.

“Oh my-“

“Scott-“

“Dude,” the alpha hisses at his best friend, wide eyed. “I mean, I saw the way you guys were around each other at the hospital, but _this?_ I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“There’s been a lot going on…”

“I could have used some good news,” Scott points out, cracking a small smile.

Stiles shrugs and tries to figure out how to explain what’s been happening between him and Lydia. He quickly realizes he can’t. “I wouldn’t have even known how to put it. I don’t really know what’s going on. It means a lot, though, whatever it is.”

“Of course it mean a lot! I can’t even remember a time when you didn’t have a crush on her.”

“Not just because of that,” Stiles corrects, a bit defensive. “It’s… It’s different than I thought it would be.”

The alpha eyes his best friend, turning serious. “Different how?”

“I don’t know exactly. With everything that’s happened, it just- it feels bigger,” Stiles admits, looking down at his fidgeting fingers and remembering Lydia holding them minutes ago. “It’s like she’s becoming part of me somehow.”

Silence is the only response he gets and he quickly looks up, cheeks burning bright red. “I know that sounds cheesy as hell but-“

“No,” Scott cuts in softly, understanding shining in his eyes. “I know what you mean.”

Stiles knows instantly that he’s talking about Allison. They both know, it goes without saying. All Stiles can do is give him a sympathetic smile as he digs his hands into his pockets.

“Kira still here?”

The alpha nods, a small smile curling his lips at the mention of his current girlfriend. “She said she was going to start on the dishes so my mom didn’t have to do them later.”

“And you’re up here talking to me?” the human retorts, feigning disappointment. “What a gentlemen.”

“Well, I thought I would be able to get back down to help right after I found you guys but then I found you and Lydia like _that_. You can’t blame me for getting sidetracked.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Well, no more side tracking then. Go help your girlfriend wash your dishes.”

“You know we do need someone to dry, though.”

“Oh and I bet you have just the person in mind for the job, huh?” the human mutters even as he follows his friend downstairs.

The alpha chuckles. “Well, I know he’s not doing anything else so I don’t really see how he can get out of it.”

Stiles lets out a sarcastic laugh, lip curled as he pats his best friend on the shoulder. 

They reach the ground floor and any small levity they had found drains when they find the sheriff trying his best to comfort a barely held together Melissa.

“You know, I think drying dishes sounds pretty damn appealing right now,” Stiles mutters, wanting nothing more than to escape his swelling guilt at the scene.

Scott nods and visibly swallows. “Yeah, come on.”

Stiles follows the alpha’s lead through the few guests still lingering around in their funeral black. 

When they reach the kitchen, Kira is up to her elbows in soap and water and her greeting is a little too grating for Stiles just like it always is. He doesn’t have the urge to roll his eyes this time though because he can’t help but suddenly realize now how much she’s really trying to be there for Scott.

The boys pull off their suit jackets and roll up their sleeves, helping to work through the rest of the stack of dirty dishes.

“I think we should make a pact,” Scott speaks up after a few minutes have passed with nothing but the sound of running water and murmur of the wake from the other room. “No more funerals. No matter what. Not until we’re old and grey.”

Stiles looks over at his best friend as he wipes a towel across another plate. The logical part of his brain knows it’s a ridiculous thing to make a pact about. None of them would ever die if they had a choice, with or without making a pact against it first.

But Scott’s eyes are shining in earnest and Stiles knows what he really means. No one else will die if Scott can do anything to help it.

A sad smile curls Kira’s lips. “I think that’s a great pact.”

Putting aside his pessimism and logic, Stiles nods because that’s what his best friend needs him to do right now. “No more funerals.”

Scott seems comforted by their agreement and nods back resolutely before continuing to rinse the stack of soapy dishes in the sink.

Stiles chews his lip, his mind churning as they all go quiet again, all focusing on their simple tasks.

It’s a pointless pact. A pact that won’t help any of them when it comes down to it because Scott would already do anything he can to save the pack. And with the way their lives work, it’s not like they can avoid putting themselves in danger. They do what they have to do and none of them knows when death is coming for them. Not even Lydia knows anymore. But he'll do whatever he can to help make sure it comes true.


	8. Chapter 8

Gasping awake, Stiles shoots straight up on the couch with his limbs flailing out, ready to bolt or to fight whatever danger he knows is waiting for him.

Within seconds he realizes that all there is waiting for him is silence and the warm, late afternoon sun pouring in from the living room window. Taking a shaky breath, his wide eyes dart around the room and then he’s counting his fingers to assure himself this is real.

It was just a dream. 

_Just a dream._

He counts to ten and lets out a huge breath, anxiously running his hands over his face and through his hair to try to regain his bearings. As he grounds himself in reality the details of the dream slip away from him. All he can really remember is the Nogitsune there and Lydia in some kind of danger.

He grabs his phone off the coffee table and sighs at the blank screen, another day with no response from Lydia because apparently her inability to _just text back_ is now a permanent thing.

Dialing Scott’s number, he takes a deep breath and leans back on the couch while it rings.

“Hey, man.”

“Scottie,” the human greets affectionately but his brow quickly furrows at the female voice in the background. “Are you with Kira? You know, you didn’t have to pick up if you’re on a date.”

“Well first of all, I did have to pick up because what if you were calling about something serious.”

“Point taken.”

“And secondly, I’m not on a date. Kira and Allison are over playing Mario Kart.”

Stiles scrunches his face up. “I’m not on speaker, am I?”

“No.”

“Well, then let me tell you buddy that you are an _effing saint_ because that has to be the most awkward situation I’ve ever heard of.”

Scott lets out a sharp laugh. “It’s really not bad.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” he retorts when a thought suddenly hits him. “Hey, uh, do you think I could talk to Allison real quick?”

“Sure, hang on a sec.”

He chews his lip as he listens to the muffled voices on the other end and the phone shifting hands.

“No, Stiles. I haven’t heard from Lydia,” Allison’s voice sing-songs knowingly across the line.

“Damn it,” Stiles huffs in frustration, not even caring that he’s apparently completely transparent. “She stayed with you last night, right? Did she seem okay this morning?”

“Actually, my dad and I took her home right after the wake yesterday,” the huntress admits. “I stayed with her the night before and I don’t think she got much sleep. She was too concerned about me to admit it, though, so I wanted to give her some space if she needed it.”

“Right,” Stiles breathes, already making plans in his head.

“…You’re just going to show up there, aren’t you?”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice.”

Allison softly laughs. “Oh, Stiles,” she fondly chides across the line. “You better text me and let me know how she is.”

“Of course,” he agrees with a smile before hanging up.

It only takes him a few minutes to pull on his shoes and a fresh plaid shirt and then he’s out the door. He’s fully prepared to walk to Lydia’s when he steps out onto the driveway but his feet come to a stop as soon as he sees his dad getting out of the Jeep.

“Dad? What’s going on?”

“Oh, just a little surprise,” the sheriff smirks as tosses over the keys. “It’s all cleaned and detailed. I even had them look at the engine too so this thing is as close to new again as it’s ever going to get.”

“Dad, you didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did,” his dad cuts in, growing serious. “Things need to get back to normal and I need to know that you’re safe.”

Stiles grips the keys tight in his hand and swallows heavily as he nods. “Thanks.”

The sheriff steps forward and pulls him into a hug.

“I really appreciate it.” The teenager pats his father’s back and grips him tight before stepping back.

“You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, kiddo,” his father assures him as he squeezes his shoulder. “I’ve got the night shift though so I better get ready. Were you heading out?”

“I was going to go see Lydia.”

The sheriff’s brow creases, his interest piqued at the mention of the teenage girl. “She doing okay? I didn’t really get to see her much yesterday but she didn’t seem like she was doing all that great.”

The teenager sighs heavily at that. “Honestly, no. I really don’t think she is,” he admits before shrugging, at a loss. “But I don’t know how much of it is normal after all that’s happened and how much is something I should be _very_ worried about.”

The sheriff is sympathetic. “I wish I had an answer for you kid but I have no idea what anyone would consider a normal reaction to half the stuff that goes on around here. All you can really do is be there either way.”

Stiles nods, going quiet as he gets lost in his thoughts.

“You’ll figure it out,” his father assures him, patting his shoulder again before he starts toward the house. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See ya,” Stiles calls after his dad as he disappears inside.

With a deep breath he rounds the Jeep to the driver’s side, taking in it’s shiny, clean exterior. Getting behind the wheel is so familiar that it instantly relaxes him and makes him feel closer to normal than he has in weeks. He can’t help it though when his eyes drift to the backseat, roaming over the now perfectly clean fabric. The evidence of that night is gone but it’s still there in his memory. All of it. 

He pulls into Lydia’s driveway a few minutes later and parks behind her blue Toyota, noticing that her mother’s car is missing as he gets out and walks up to her door. 

Silence rings out after he knocks and rocks back on his heels to wait. A minute passes but there’s no far off footsteps from inside. No voices. Nothing. 

He knocks again and wonders if Lydia’s even there at all.

Stepping back onto the stairs of her front stoop, his eyes narrow on her bedroom window. It’s cracked open and the light is already on inside when the sun has just barely finished setting. She _must_ be home.

He steps forward again and pounds on the door this time. “Lydia? Lyds!”

A couple minutes later he finally hears footsteps inside but any relief he might feel evaporates the second Lydia opens the door.

Her eyes are red rimmed and glassy, dark shadows under them from obvious exhaustion. More concerning though is how she seems thin in a way he hadn’t noticed until this moment. He hopes his eyes are playing tricks on him, that the large hoodie of his that is currently engulfing her is making it seem worse than it really is.

After a moment of standing there, the silence looming between them, Lydia rests against the door unsteadily and he realizes to his complete dismay that she does it because she _has_ to.

“Lydia…”

She visibly swallows and avoids his eyes as she steps back to let him inside.

Silently he walks past her, stopping just inside the foyer.

She leans back on the door after she closes it and they study each other from across the small space.

“Are you having nightmares?” It’s the only explanation for all of this that he can think of.

Looking down, she avoids the question like she always seems to lately and that is confirmation enough for him.

He takes a step closer to her as he glances curiously out into the rest of the silent house. “Your mom coming home tonight?”

She looks up at him wearily, hesitating before giving in and slowly shaking her head no.

His heart clenches and he steps closer again. “Lydia, you shouldn’t be alone.”

Her bottom lip quivers but she still tries to shrug it off like it’s nothing; like she’s _fine_ and she can handle it. She’s not fine though, not at all, and suddenly she’s shaking her head to herself and looking away again, her whole body starting to tremble.

Closing the distance, he wraps her up in his arms and holds her close. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

She latches onto him, pulling at the back of his shirt with shaky fingers to get closer. She is so weak in his grasp that he instantly knows it wasn’t just an illusion, she’s definitely getting thinner. Not eating going right along with her obviously not sleeping.

“Have you had dinner yet?” he asks so gently and easily, his instinct to take care of this girl naturally taking hold of him.

She bites her lip and shakes her head at him, cheeks flushing.

“Me neither,” he concurs, trying to soothe the uneasiness he can see building behind her eyes. “You got anything to eat?” He doesn’t wait for her to answer and simply takes matters into his own hands and leads them to the kitchen.

He helps settle her on one of the stools at the counter and then makes his way to the fridge to see what there is to work with. Frowning, he realizes there’s really not much at all.

“How about eggs?” he finally suggests over his shoulder while he digs through the drawers. “I think there might be enough here to make omelettes.”

He looks over to see her just barely nodding, eyes watery as she watches him. 

“Omelettes it is then,” he concludes, forcing himself to remain upbeat even though he’s becoming more and more unsettled by her uncharacteristically fragile demeanor.

Her eyes are locked on him as he dices vegetables at the counter in front of her and he keeps a running commentary going the whole time, over explaining everything he does to keep himself calm. Lydia’s not watching his hands though. She’s studying his face and his eyes and listening to him so intently that he can’t help it when his cheeks start to burn bright pink.

Once he’s done with the veggies he moves on to the eggs, standing at the sink and carefully cracking each of them into a giant bowl when a loud clatter suddenly echoes through the kitchen. Jumping, he turns to see Lydia up and getting the proper pan out for him to use.

“Thanks,” he smiles softly and meets her at the stovetop.

Lydia stays at his side after that, leaning against the counter nearby to watch.

He goes quiet then as he focuses, too nervous that he’ll mess something up the first time he gets the chance to cook for Lydia. Once everything is in the pan though, all there really is to do is wait so he naturally turns to her. He’s thrown though when he finds her green eyes brimming with tears and an intensity shining in them that is overwhelming. “Lyds?”

She crosses the space between them then, tugging on the front of his shirt and bringing him down enough so she can lean up on her toes and press her lips against his.

Gripping her waist tight with one hand and the spatula in the other, he’s breathless and dazed when she pulls away. “I- I- um-“

He watches a tear slip down her cheek before she hastily wipes it away and he wishes he knew what the hell is going on in her head.

“I gotta flip the omelettes,” he blurts when he can’t think of anything else to say.

Lydia raises a brow at him before she lets out a breathy and tearful jolt of laughter at him, shocking both of them.

Instantly he’s grinning at her as she shuffles back to let him cook and he reaches out to take one of her hands with his free one. Her smile doesn’t stick around for very long, he didn’t expect it to, but her small laugh seems to have broken the tension somehow.

It’s something he never thought of before, but with Lydia being left-handed and him right-handed, they can easily hold hands while they eat so of course he keeps a tight grip on her hand the whole time. He makes a few comments here and there but mostly he lets the silence settle around them, letting himself be comfortable just being there with her.

He’s still working on his when she sets aside her fork and turns to swing her legs across his lap. He smirks at her while he chews, watching her pull his hand into her lap to fidget with.

As soon as his last bite is gone, she brings his hand to her lips to carefully kiss each of his knuckles and let her lips linger against his skin. She hugs his hand to her chest then and her lips precisely mouth two words at him.

_Thank you._

Warmth spreads through his chest and he leans into her. “I’d do anything for you, Lyds.”

Her eyes turn bright as they roam across his face, carefully and slowly, like she’s trying to memorize him. Something shifts in her gaze and abruptly she moves her legs off his lap and stands, tugging on his hand and nodding for him to follow her.

He doesn’t think twice when he lets her lead him upstairs to her room.

She walks him straight over to the bed, gently pushing against his chest until he gets the hint and sits down on the mattress. Immediately she walks over to grab the journal he gave her from off the vanity before joining him on the bed.

Smiling at the sight of the journal, he can’t help how relieved he is that she's actually going to _talk_ with him. He watches her lean back against her pillows before opening the journal and he takes it upon himself to follow her lead and lay back next to her. As soon as he’s settled at her side, she hands over the journal with a short message written inside.

_I’d do anything for you too. You know that, right?_

He gaze slides to hers and he takes a shaky breath and slowly nods when he sees the truth behind her words shining in her eyes.

She presses the pen into his fingers and gently nudges his side.

Taking the hint, he pulls the journal close and begins to write back.

_The only thing I need you to do for me is take care of yourself._

Lydia wells up again when she reads his words and she closes her eyes against his overwhelming affection for her, sending twin tears sliding down the sides of her face into her hair.

“I mean it,” he whispers as he rolls on to his side to face her. “You _have_ to be okay.”

Sniffling, she tilts her head and opens her weary eyes to him.

In that moment, all he wants to do is hold her and take care of her because she’s a mess in a way Lydia Martin is never _ever_ supposed to be. She has been for way too long now and he can’t take it anymore. 

“I’ll help you figure out how to deal with the nightmares. I get how awful they can be. _Believe me_ I do. I mean, I still have to count my fingers sometimes to make sure I’m actually awake.” He reaches out and cups her cheek, running his thumb along the dark skin under her eye. “But you need to get some sleep.”

She takes a shaky breath and reluctantly nods against his touch.

Pulling back, Stiles closes the journal and sets it aside on the bedside table. Then he gracelessly kicks his shoes off and onto the floor before pulling his phone and keys from his pocket to set on the table as well.

Lydia is eyeing him curiously when he turns back to her.

“Oh yeah, we’re doing this now by the way.”

She lets out a tearful laugh and rolls her eyes but moves into him anyways. Her lips press against the base of his throat for a long moment as he settles his arms around her.

“Just try to get some rest, okay? I’ll be here no matter what. We’ll figure it all out together when you wake up, I promise.”

He thinks he hears her sniffle again as she grips him tight but he’s not sure. He presses a kiss into her hair anyways.

Rubbing his palm across her back, his movements go slower and slower as the minutes pass and her breath runs against his skin.

Lydia shifts to press her hand against his heart and he can feel his eyes starting to grow heavy, his own exhaustion wearing on him.

\------

It seems like no time at all before he’s blinking awake into darkness.

Half asleep, he blindly reaches out for Lydia, wanting nothing more than to snuggle into her side and pass out again, but he finds only cool, empty sheets.

Stiles lifts his head and squints into the dark room. “Lydia?”

Silence is all he gets in return but it’s the stillness of the house around him that has his heart speeding up.

“Lydia?” 

He stumbles out of bed and navigates his way through the dark room with his arms out to find the light switch. Light floods the room and makes him flinch but as his eyes adjust he still finds no evidence of Lydia, only her rumpled and empty side of the bed.

Crossing the room and swiping up his phone, he fully intends to have Scott on standby while he searches the rest of the house for her because he’s not taking any risks. Not after the way she was tonight and not with the dread quickly building in his gut. 

Something makes him pause though.

His keys. His keys aren’t where he left them next to his phone.

“Shit,” he hisses, fingers already fumbling to dial Scott’s number as he darts to the window.

The jeep is gone and he knows instantly that Lydia took it.

“She’s gone!” he bursts the second other end clicks on.

“What? Stiles…“

“Lydia took my Jeep, Scott. She’s gone and-”

“Gone?” Scott repeats, becoming alert. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know,” the human hisses, starting to lose it. “Oh god, I don’t know! I don’t know, man…”

“Stiles! You have to focus, okay? Where are you?”

“At her house.” He anxiously tugs at his hair. “I just woke up and she-“

“I’m on my way there, okay?” the alpha cuts in. “We’ll find her.”

Stiles nods and quickly ends the call, already dialing another number as he stumbles to Lydia’s bedside to pull on his shoes.

“Stiles? Is something wrong? It’s the middle of the night-“

“I need you to put an APB out on the Jeep,” he immediately orders, voice somehow frantic and completely commanding at the same time. “Lydia- She took it. She’s got it-“

“Stiles-“

“and I don’t know where she went but she just disappeared without telling me anything-“

“Stiles?“

“I’ve never seen her like she was tonight, Dad. She wasn’t herself! She was-“

“Stiles!” the sheriff finally bellows across the line.

The teenager stops himself mid-ramble, huffing for breath as he falls into distressed silence.

“Now don’t be mad,” the sheriff starts cautiously, “but I may have had tracking device installed on the Jeep when I had it worked on.”

Stiles pauses as he takes in the information and tries to process it. “You did?”

“I did,” his father confirms. “I felt like it was the responsible thing to do to after everything that-“

“Well, check it,” Stiles abruptly cuts his dad off, too on edge to be anything but relieved, “or activate it or whatever the hell it is you have to do to see where it is.”

“Of course, of course. Just hold on a second.”

Stiles chews his lip nervously as the line goes silent. As he waits, his eyes dart around the room until he hones in on Lydia’s purse. Quickly digging inside, he pulls out the keys to her car so he can use it to get to whatever location his dad gives him.

“Stiles? It says the Jeep is at the preserve.”

“The preserve? Why the hell…” Stiles is baffled for a moment when it hits him with overwhelming dread. “Oh god, the Nemeton. She’s at the frickin Nemeton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has left comments and kudos on this! This is my first multi-chapter story in a looong time and I feel like I'm still getting in the swing of writing so I'd love to hear what you think. The next chapter is a big one and it's very long so far but I'll try to post again soon.


	9. Chapter 9

He sees Lydia before he sees the Nemeton, laid out and still across the surface of the old tree stump, her pale skin glowing under the moonlight and the ends of her strawberry blonde hair hanging over the edge. 

It isn’t until he reaches her that he sees the blood.

“Lydia,” he cries out as he stumbles to a stop at her side, the red staining the side of her nightgown and the wood below her all he can see.

How the hell is this happening again? 

"No, no, no, no. Lydia?”

Immediately he starts to climb up next to her to pick her up but when he presses his palms down to hoist himself up closer, he finds himself leaning on a thick book instead of the rough wood surface of the Nemeton. He’s so focused on Lydia that he barely glances at it but he catches his name in her handwriting sticking out of the pages.

_Stiles._

He freezes, eyes widening as it all suddenly hits him. The scene unravels before him as he finally notices the small dagger loosely gripped in her own hand and the bright green powder dusting her fingers and mixing with her blood.

“Oh, god,” he mutters, voice trembling along with the rest of him.

Quickly he swipes up the book and opens it to the marked page. There, on the small piece of paper with his name at the top, he finds a short note in her familiar handwriting.

_The Nogitsune is in my head. It’s using me to keep it alive the way Peter did._

_I’m sorry but you never would have let me do this if I told you._

_This is the only chance there is to stop it._

_Please trust me._

His eyes dart to Lydia in horror, everything that’s been happening with her falling right into place in his mind. 

The nightmares. The anxiety. The insomnia.

Swallowing roughly, he frantically searches the book to find something that explains what she’s doing but finds himself staring in rapidly growing anxiety at page after page of Latin. The only word he can recognize is banshee and it only serves to mount his worry and frustration every time his eyes find it as he scans the pages.

He’s ready to throw it aside, hating himself for wasting time with a book instead of just getting Lydia the hell out of here when a note in the margin catches his attention.

_What wages battle in the mind must be defeated in the mind._

“Stiles!”

He whips around to see Scott bounding through the forest, running to his side as fast as he can. “What the hell happened?”

“Lydia, she… ” Stiles starts to try to explain before letting out a big huff of air and just handing over the note.

Anxiously, Stiles taps his foot, his eyes darting as he tries to come up with some kind of a plan and fast.

“So she did this? She’s trying to-”

“Save us all and kill herself in the process? Yeah. Looks that way,” Stiles bites, anger winning out as he tries to hold himself together.

“Stiles…” the Alpha gently chides, shaking his head sadly.

“What, Scott? Did I get something wrong? Because I think the growing pool of blood on the _fricking Nemeton_ will show you that I’m exactly right,” he retorts. He grits his teeth as he looks over her pale face and wounded side before shaking his head that he’s even contemplating this. “We’re taking her to the hospital.”

He moves to climb onto the Nemeton but Scott’s hand jumps out to stop him.

“Wait, what if-”

“Wait?! Wait for what, Scott? Wait for her to die?”

“No! Of course not,” the alpha vehemently denies, his eyes softening at his best friend. “I was going to say, what if this is something that needs to happen? She’s asking you to trust her, Stiles.”

“I trust her, I do, but I can’t just…” Stiles stops, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I can’t watch her die again. Okay? I can’t do that. _I can’t lose her._ ”

Scott presses his mouth into a thin line and nods solemnly. “I know but, Stiles, if it’s really in her head, then we’re going to have to find a way to stop it. What if this is the way to do that?”

Stiles sighs, chewing his lips as his mind races to try and figure out just what the hell he should do. He looks at the small note in the margin in Lydia’s perfect handwriting once again.

_What wages battle in the mind must be defeated in the mind._

His thoughts slow and he goes calm as the solution becomes perfectly clear to him; the only way they can help Lydia. “We’re going in.”

“What?” the Alpha mutters in confusion before the words truly sink in. “No! Stiles-”

“Why not? You guys went into my mind and were able to help me get out. We can do the same for Lydia, except we’ll help her kill the thing this time.”

Scott fiercely shakes his head, watching wide-eyed as his best friend settles down on the tree stump next to the unconscious girl. “We don’t know what we’d be going in to. What if this is a trap? What if this is just a way to get back into your head?”

Stiles shrugs as if his concerns are nothing. “Then at least it will be out of hers.”

“Stiles…”

“We’re doing this, Scott,” the human snaps, desperation edging his tone. He notices his best friend flinch and he lets out a long sigh, his shoulders deflating. “ _Please._ ”

The alpha hesitates, appraising his friend and the bleeding girl next to him before reluctantly giving it. “I’ll need you to turn her head to the side so I can get to her neck.”

Stiles doesn’t hesitate to oblige, leaning over and carefully turning Lydia so her cheek rests against the rough wood of the tree stump.

“And before we go in, you should know that when we went into your head, it tricked us at first. It tied us up at Eichen and after we escaped it made me think I was with Allison.”

“Believe me, I am intimately aware of the mind games this thing can play,” he mutters as he settles on the Nemeton. As soon as he stills, he feels Scott’s nails just scratching the skin on the back of his neck.

“Ready?”

Instinctively he reaches out and grabs Lydia’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers, before squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Ready.”

The claws push in and pain radiates through him like an electric shock. 

Within seconds, it’s all vanished. 

All he can hear after that is thrashing water and a gust of cool air hits him in the face. 

Blinking slowly, he finds himself standing on a beach under a swirling and stormy sky, waves roughly crashing into the shore. Scott is right there next to him but the alpha can only shrug at him in confusion as a distant rumble of thunder fills the air.

“Lydia?”

Both boys look down the beach to see Ms. Martin running along the shoreline, her eyes franticly searching the water. She calls out her daughter’s name again and hurries past them as if they aren’t even there.

“Lydia!” she suddenly screeches, her whole body freezing for a split second before she runs into the ocean in all of her clothes and dives head first into the water.

Stiles sees the body the second Ms. Martin disappears into the waves, floating face down in the choppy water. His heart slams in his chest as he watches Lydia’s mother try to reach her, but something about the girl in the water is throwing him off.

“Did you know Lydia almost drowned when she was a child?”

Spinning around, his eyes harden at finding the Nogitsune suddenly there, watching the scene unfold with unrestrained delight.

“Foolish girl thought her parents were being too strict making her stay in the shallow water. So when her mother wasn’t paying attention, she swam out as far as she could to spite them. When she turned around and tried to come back though…”

Stiles looks back to see Ms. Martin dragging an unresponsive Lydia onto the beach. A young Lydia; at least a year younger than she was when he fell for her in third grade. Ms. Martin begins chest compressions and Stiles feels absolutely sick at the sight. He has to turn away, his eyes glassy as he stares down the Nogitsune.

“Why are you showing us this?” he demands, gritting his teeth.

“I’m not,” the demon retorts with a short laugh. “I’m showing Lydia.”

His brow furrows and he’s about to demand more answers but he is cut off by an outburst of coughing and choking.

Turning back, he sees the young strawberry blonde shaking and gasping for air as her mother lets out a sob and envelopes her in a hug. Lydia turns her head and he swears the young girl is searching for them as her eyes flicker, unfocused, back and forth, when suddenly everything changes.

Lydia, her mother, and the beach disappear in a flash only to be replaced by the dark lacrosse field.

Stiles turns to confront the demon but finds the Nogitsune has vanished as well. Instead his eyes catch sight of the school and the distant hum of music just barely reaches his ears.

“Jackson?”

The voice he’s been missing so much breaks through the air and his stomach drops in realization. The lights suddenly turn on, one by one, illuminating Lydia in her pale pink dress in the middle of the field.

“Wait, isn’t this the night that-“

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, cutting off the alpha. “The night Peter bit her.”

The scene plays out in front of them like a movie and it’s the weirdest sense of deja-vu Stiles has ever had as he watches himself run across the field as fast as his feet can carry him. It’s like reliving a nightmare, standing paralyzed and overwhelmed with the same fear he felt that night as he watches Peter attack Lydia all over again.

“Why are we seeing this?” Scott’s desperate voice suddenly cuts into his horror. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I- I don’t know,” Stiles breathes helplessly as Lydia falls to the ground, unconscious.

Except, somehow, she isn’t. 

The Lydia in front of them blinks, green eyes wide terrified, and turns her head in their direction.

Stiles steps forward without a thought, somehow knowing in that instant that he has to get to her. He doesn’t make it even two steps though before the scenery is shifting again and the darkened hallways of the school are closing in around them.

The reason they are there is instantly clear to him and he takes off sprinting toward the English classroom in search of Lydia, Scott following close behind without question.

They turn the corner, running into the room as she struggles with Jennifer, trying everything to hold the garrote off her neck. The scream that suddenly erupts from her is more than powerful, causing Jennifer to give up the fight in shock and sending the alpha at his side to his knees. Stiles presses forward though, somehow knowing that this is more than just a memory and he has to stop it now.

“Near death experiences. I guess it is possible to decipher a pattern from only two data points, huh Stiles?”

Stiles grits his teeth at the reappearance of Nogitsune suddenly standing between him and the scene unfolding on the other side of the room. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

The Nogitsune smirks. “I have my reasons.”

Scott’s low growl crackles in the air, the alpha bearing his teeth at the demon as Jennifer tapes a sobbing Lydia to a chair across the room.

“Really, Scott?” the Nogitsune laughs. “What are you going to do? Bite me again? Go ahead. I’d be curious to see if you can even turn a spirit, let alone one residing in someone else’s head.”

The garrote slips around Lydia’s neck and Jennifer pulls back on it tight, the knife poised at her throat. Lydia whimpers, her whole body fighting for oxygen, and Stiles can’t just stand there and watch anymore, not when everything feels so real.

He pushes forward, trying to shove the Nogitsune out of his way. “Lydia!”

Her eyes dart to his and his breath catches in his throat when they lock eyes.

These aren’t just memories, Stiles realizes as he stares into her frightened, watery eyes. She’s reliving it. The Nogitsune is making her relive all of the pain and fear of every time she’s almost died as if it is really happening all over again.

He hears his dad screaming at Jennifer to stop from behind him but he ignores it and somehow finds the strength to shove the Nogitsune out of the way.

“Stiles!” Lydia calls out to him the moment Jennifer releases her, her voice rough and weak. She nods toward the desk behind him, the one blocking the door that his former self is struggling to open. 

His eyes rapidly dart across it in absolute confusion, looking for something, _anything_ , that Lydia would want him to find. “Lydia, what..”

That’s when he sees something that shouldn’t be there at all; the book he had found next to her on the Nemeton, the note with his name at the top still peaking out between the pages. He darts for it, somehow knowing he _has_ to get it. His fingers just brush the cover when the whole world shifts again and his hand grasps around nothing but air.

He blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, all he can focus on is the overwhelming sound of Lydia’s scream ringing out all around him, dulling all his other senses as it stabs into his eardrums.

Scott falls to the ground and Stiles can see blood already beginning to slowly seep between the fingers he has clasped over his ears. He has no choice but to leave the alpha behind as he makes his way to find Lyda, needing to be with her and figure out a way to make this all stop.

The tunnel stretches endlessly in either direction and her scream presses down on him like an inescapable force but he remembers the way to where she is. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget anything about that night. It seems to take forever to reach her, the pain of the sound getting louder and louder wearing him down as he goes. When he reaches the end of the corridor and begins to descend the small flight of stairs to reach her, he’s horrified at what he finds.

The blood slowly slipping out of her still screaming mouth and coating her chin. Her eyes red against her nearly colorless skin as her body struggles without any oxygen. Her small hands pushing weakly at the Nogitsune, the demon wearing his face, fighting for him to let her go.

It’s like watching himself kill her and something inside him breaks at the sight.

Abruptly the demon drops its hand and the scream stops, only to be replaced with a ringing in his ears so loud he can’t hear anything over it.

He watches in horror as Lydia sways on her shaky feet for a long moment, choking and struggling to breathe, before she begins to crumple in on herself, stumbling back into the wall and sliding to the ground.

He is by her side in an instant, trying to take her hand and saying her name over and over, barely able to hear his own voice over the ringing in his head.

She doesn’t acknowledge him though, focused dazedly on the Nogitsune as she continually coughs and chokes on her blood. It’s like she’s too caught up in the memory to know that it’s just a memory to begin with.

The Nogitsune from the past kneels on her other side and Stiles can only watch as he wraps his hand around her throat and drinks in her pain. The demon’s muffled voice is starting to break through the fading ringing in his ears and he scowls at the mocking, triumphant tone to it.

Suddenly Lydia is scowling too, fighting as much as she can against the Nogitsune’s hold.

The demon laughs in her face. “Cute. Too bad you can’t speak. It would really add to the whole thing if your dying words could be finally admitting you’re in love with the poor, spastic little bastard.”

Stiles heart pounds in his chest as the words sink in and the Nogitsune releases his hold on Lydia. Maybe it should feel good to hear someone claiming Lydia loves him like it’s a fact but he absolutely hates it. He hates every bit of it and hates himself all over again for it because he’s never felt more responsible for Lydia’s nearly permanent death than he does as he hears how the Nogitsune taunted her about him as she died.

“Lydia?” he calls out to her softly as he wraps his hand around hers. The Nogitsune is still talking but Stiles tunes it out, focusing on trying to snap Lydia out of it as she dies in front of him all over again. “Lydia, it’s just a memory. It’s not real.”

She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t really look at anything as her chest heaves at an uneven pattern and blood drips down her chin.

The Oni suddenly appear all around them and Stiles watches the demon snap Noshiko’s tail, only for all of them to disappear in the blink of an eye.

Lydia’s fingers suddenly flex and squeeze around his own. He looks back and finds she’s watching him through heavy eyes that seem barely able to focus on him.

“Woah, Lydia,” he breathes her name in sudden alarm. Reaching out, he gently taps the side of her face, trying to keep her awake and get her to focus. “Hey. It’s not real. Okay, Lydia? I promise this is just a memory. We’re in your mind. Can you get us out of here?”

She furrows her brow in concentration before her eyes flit to a point over Stiles’s shoulder and she points to it with her free hand.

He turns to see Scott about to descend the stairs looking worse for wear with streaks of blood coming from both of his ears. He’s at a loss as to what she wants him to see but before he can turn back to ask Lydia what she means, his eyes catch once again on the old worn book with the note sticking out of the top on one of the stairs.

“Scott!” he calls urgently to the Alpha, making him jump. “Scott, get the book!”

The werewolf looks around for a second before he spots the out of place object and reaches for it. His fingers close around the binding but as soon as he starts to lift it, the scenery changes again and the book is being forcefully ripped out of Scott’s hand by the bandage covered Nogitsune.

An endless bright white room surrounds them all and Stiles instantly recognizes it from when Scott and Lydia had entered his own mind and when they had sacrificed themselves for their parents. He knows they are in some looming space belonging to the Nemeton.

The Nogitsune’s laugh rings out around them. “Oh, Lydia. Haven’t you realized yet that you can’t outsmart me? There’s no way you can win this game.”

Stiles looks to Lydia, still holding his hand and just as close as she had been in the tunnels, but now she’s in her nightgown with a growing bloodstain on her side, skin pale and eyes dulling. She opens her mouth to argue but her voice is gone, reality catching up to her outside of her memories.

Stiles grits his teeth and turns wild eyed at the Nogitsune. “Let her go! You’ve already lost. Or did you forget that you we destroyed you and the fricking fly that you are is buried on the other side of the world? Stop torturing her!”

“Torturing?” the Nogitsune repeats, contemplating the word. “I’m only doing what I have to. You see, I had weeks to break you down, Stiles. I could take my time and do it correctly. Strategically. Lydia’s little stunt with the Lichen and the Nemeton has forced my hand. There’s no time for anything else.”

“What do you need her for any way?” Scott growls, his fists clenching at his sides. “There’s not a body for her to resurrect like she did with Peter. She can’t help you.”

“I don’t need my own body,” the demon laughs at the alpha. “I’ll admit it would give me more power, which is why I split from Stiles, but it’s not necessary. I can live in Lydia’s mind forever if I so choose, which is why I kept her around as my back up plan. Admittedly, I see now that I should have just ripped her throat out instead, left her bloody corpse for you to find. You completely gave up when you thought that she was dead, didn’t you Stiles?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” the human promises darkly, his fiery glare narrowing on the demon.

“Maybe. But don’t think for a second that I’m not going to take Lydia with me.”

The demon steps towards them, turning toward Lydia and studying her closely.

Stiles can feel her trembling beside him and he squeezes her hand tighter.

“For now though, it seems there is still time,” the Nogitsune observes from the amount of blood on Lydia’s side. He turns away and begins pacing thoughtfully.

Scott catches Stiles and Lydia’s attention from across the room, discretely releasing his fists to reveal his claws as he nods in question toward the demon.

Stiles is all for it but Lydia responds first, vehemently shaking her head at the alpha.

“I think it’s time for a different approach,” the Nogitsune suddenly speaks, coming to a halt a few feet away. He turns to Lydia again, his silver teeth glistening. “You see physical pain can be managed and endured but _emotional_ pain? That’s the real weakness of a human. That’s what breaks a spirit down.”

Panic over takes him as he whips back to Lydia, barely able to open his mouth to speak before she disappears from his grasp. 

The endless white room vanishes as well to be replaced by a dimly lit hallway. Stiles recognizes it as the Martin’s house immediately as he scrambles to his feet.

“Where’s Lydia?” Scott asks as he rushes to his best friend’s side.

“I don’t know,” Stiles grinds out through gritted teeth. He sighs and looks around. “We have to find her. Maybe she’s in her room or-“

A loud crash rings out from downstairs, cutting him off mid-sentence. Far off, he can suddenly hear rising voices coming from the same direction and doesn’t hesitate to run toward them.

They turn the corner and are about to descend the stairs when they stumble at the sight of Lydia. A younger Lydia, probably not even in high school yet, sitting on the stairs with her back against the wall and her shoulders shaking with silent tears.

He can hear the screaming even louder now, vaguely recognizes it as Lydia’s parents, but it isn’t until he descends the stairs to sit at Lydia’s side that he can hear what they are saying clearly.

“-mad that I’m the one who had the balls to try to get out of here first!” a male voice is shouting, presumably Lydia’s father. “We both know this hasn’t been working.”

Stiles reaches out and touches Lydia’s face, trying to get her to look at him but she doesn’t move or acknowledge him.

“How dare you try to put this on me!” Ms. Martin screams back. “I’ve been trying so hard to fix this and you’ve been off screwing your intern this whole time!”

“You can’t really be surprised,” the male voice retorts. “We haven’t been happy for years, Nat. Since before Lydia even. Ever since then it’s been-”

The strawberry blonde crumples, both of her hands jumping to cover her mouth and hold back the sobs threatening to erupt. 

“What are you saying? Are you saying you that you regret our life together? With our _daughter_?”

She jumps to her feet as if to run upstairs and hide and Stiles jumps up with her, stopping her escape with an arm around her waist.

Her eyes shoot up to his as the voices blend together in the background, leaving her mother’s questions still unanswered after all these years. 

“Stiles,” she breathes his name, grasping tight to his arm and trying to hold back the torrent of tears behind her eyes and keep herself grounded in the reality of the present and not the past. “Stiles, y-you have to find the book.”

“Lydia,” he murmurs her name as he holds her trembling form closer, helpless at the sight of her so upset and wanting nothing more than to comfort her.

“No, Stiles. The book,” she tearfully demands of him, before looking between him and the alpha imploringly. “I need the ritual inside of it. It’s the only way to end this. Whatever happens, you have to ignore it. Just find the book, okay?”

He opens his mouth to protest but the scene shifts and she’s gone, leaving Scott and himself standing and staring at each other in the middle of the busy school hallway.

Within seconds, there is a commotion down the hall and he turns just in time to see Jackson shoving Lydia back into the wall, anger lighting his features.

Stiles’s teeth grit tight and his fists clench at his side. Scott’s hand on his arm the only thing that stops him from running down the hallway to kill the bastard as if it’s happening now.

“The book,” Scott reminds him with determination.

Stiles groans in annoyance. “The book,” he echoes back reluctantly. It takes everything in him to turn away from Lydia and help Scott begin searching. They rip open lockers, topple out text books, throw open classroom doors.

“You ruin everything!”

His eyes jump to Lydia at Jackson’s proclamation just as her eyes meet his and she escapes the memory. He watches helplessly as shame suddenly colors her features before she breaks their gaze.

His shoulders deflate and he looks away into an empty classroom.

“The book,” he murmurs at the sight of it, jumping toward the abandoned desk that it sits upon.

At that moment, the scene shifts because of course it does.

He forces himself to ignore what is happening after that. He doesn’t stop searching for the book as Peter explains how he will kill everyone at her birthday party if she doesn’t help him, or as she wakes up to a bed smeared with blood from her hand and a broken mirror, or when she finds dead body after dead body, screaming her lungs out at the sight of each one. 

He even forces himself to keep searching as Lydia and her dad scream awful things at each other after he catches her sneaking in late one night, only going motionless when he hears the older man mutter the word _slut_ under his breath when he stomps out of the room.

He can tell the memory doesn’t have it’s hold on her anymore but she refuses to meet his eyes as tears slowly start to drip down her cheeks, her whole body shaking as she stumbles back against the wall.

It’s all wearing on her, he can tell from the trembling in her limbs and the paleness in her cheeks. All of the memories are becoming too much for her to handle but he trusts Lydia that the only way out is to find that damn book.

Each time they get closer to it. They find the book faster and faster as the memories progress, almost reaching it in some and then actually closing their fingers around it in others, until suddenly they are finding it so fast that they’re shifting to new memories before the previous ones even really get started.

He blinks and his brow furrows in confusion at where he finds himself.

Home. _His_ home. Standing in his own driveway.

He’s so thrown that he doesn’t look for the book. Instead, he watches Lydia’s car as it pulls in behind his dented Jeep, headlights blinding him in the dark night.

She steps out of the car and he instantly recognizes the dress she’s wearing. The pale blue color that he’ll never forget.

“Stiles,” Scott speaks up from behind him anxiously, “We need to find the book, remember?”

Vaguely he nods but he doesn’t take his eyes from Lydia. 

He remembers everything about the day Lydia wore that dress very clearly; more clearly than almost any other day in his life. It’s not everyday that the girl you’ve loved forever kisses you, your father almost dies, and you get in a car crash before running in at the last second to save the day with a baseball bat. 

Lydia did not come to see him.

Slowly, she makes her way up the concrete path toward Stiles’s front door, her eyes clouded as she presses her lips together. She moves past him as if he isn’t there and he guesses to her he really isn’t. 

Automatically, he follows close behind.

She raises her hand to knock before becoming suddenly nervous and stopping herself right before her hand connects with the doors. She huffs out a huge sigh and looks down at her fingers, fidgeting with them slightly.

Stiles watches on in fascination.

“Hi Stiles,” Lydia murmurs to herself in practice, voice barely above a whisper and her tone too fake and breezy, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay-“

She cuts herself off and scoffs at herself, shaking her head to clear it.

“Hi Stiles, I heard you almost died again,” she mutters sarcastically, rolling her now tearful eyes in frustration.

She takes a deep breath, this air of sadness overtaking her. “ _Stiles._ ” 

Her voice breaks as she says his name in a way he’s never heard her say it before that has his heart pounding in his chest.

She presses her lips together again and nods resolutely, bringing her hand up again to knock when a muffled laugh suddenly breaks through the otherwise silent night. Not just any laughter, his own laughter. 

He watches as Lydia’s brow furrows before she sneaks over to the living room window, discreetly peeking inside. Stiles doesn’t have to look to know what she will see. He remembers he and his dad had stopped on the way home to get fast food and then spent the whole night just talking, neither of them ready to go to bed or leave the other’s side.

Lydia steps back from the window and this warm smile slowly spreads across her lips, relief visibly relaxing her as another round of laughter breaks out inside.

She turns away to leave and almost runs straight into Stiles, and would have too if her eyes catching on him didn’t snap her out of her thoughts.

Stiles’s intense gaze boars into hers, his hands holding her shoulders to steady her. “Is this real? Did this happen or-“

“It’s real,” she confirms softly, her eyes shining. “Allison told me you got into an accident on the way to the Nemeton and I had see for myself that you-“

He doesn’t let her finish before he presses forward and kisses her, pulling her close and sinking his fingers into hair. She starts to respond but she remembers where they really are and it is definitely not on Stiles’s front porch.

“Stiles…” she pulls away with a shaky breath, fingers brushing his cheek.

“We keep finding it,” he immediately bursts, his exasperation starting to catch up to him. “We find it _every time_ but right when we are about to get it, everything changes.”

Her brow furrows and he can see her mind working but it’s when he sees the concern growing in her gaze that his anxiety ramps up. “Stiles, we have to get that book. There’s no other way for this to work.”

“There has to be,” Stiles argues but she just shakes her head gravely. “Well then there has to be another way to get it.”

She sighs and nods but he can tell she doesn’t have any answers behind it. “I’ll try to figure something out. Just keep trying.”

“Of course.”

“But, Stiles,” she continues, her hand cupping his cheek to keep him focused on her, “if we can’t get it or if something goes wrong then- then you have to get out of here.”

“What? If something _goes wrong_? Are you kidding me here, Lyds?” He shakes off her touch as his eyes narrow at her. “No way in hell am I _ever_ leaving if there’s even a chance you’re not going to be out there when I wake up.”

She sighs at him like he’s being ridiculously annoying and just steps around him and out onto the driveway. “Scott!” she calls out to the alpha who is still searching through the garage. “Scott, I need you to promise me that if something goes wrong, you’ll get yourself and Stiles out of here.”

“Something goes wrong?” Scott repeats as he continues to dig through the shelves, shooting her a strange look, “Like what?”

“Just promise me-“

“Scott will never promise that!” Stiles cuts in as he stomps into the garage after her.

“Please, Stiles, just-“

“The book!”

All of them look back toward the Jeep to see the book sitting plainly out on the dashboard for all to see.

Immediately the boys start running towards it, prying open the doors and scrambling to reach it, their fingers just glancing the cover when everything shifts.

“Goddamn it!” Stiles screams, punching at the air where the book had just been. He grits his teeth and rakes his hands through his hair before looking around.

They’re on the lacrosse field, apparently in the middle of a game because a herd of players are suddenly running straight at them. They jump out of the way and to the sidelines, not sure if they really have to but not wanting to take the chance.

Stiles instantly finds his former self on the field. Then he sees Lydia in the stands, Gerard on the sideline.

“The State Championship,” Scott concludes as he nods toward himself sitting anxiously on the bench.

“Why would this be emotional torturous for Lydia to relive?” Stiles wonders aloud as his eyes scan the landscape.

Scott shrugs. “Why was the last memory?”

Sighing at that, Stiles can’t help but feel like something is changing. He spots the book easily on the other side of the field, on the bleachers near Lydia.

“Shoot it!” he hears her screech and watches his former self suddenly spring to life and score a goal.

He can just see the way she is grinning at the memory of him when his fingers touch the cover and everything changes.

The next memory is of Lydia crying in her car when Stiles comes up to talk to her. That then morphs into the winter formal, Stiles going off on her until she dances with him.

“The pattern of is different,” Stiles thinks aloud, brow furrowing with worry that he’s missed some change in the Nogitsune’s plan.

“Now all the memories have to do with you,” Scott points out, a sad smile on his lips as he watches himself and Stiles check on Allison and Lydia after the deer ran into their car.

“I hope this doesn’t mean her memories of me are somehow torturous.”

“Maybe it’s not to torture her anymore. Maybe it’s not even really for her,” Scott suggests with a shrug. “Maybe it’s to distract you.”

Stiles furrows his brow at that. “Distract me?”

“Come on, Stiles. It’s been taking us longer and longer to find the book because you keep watching. I get it, you can’t help it. But maybe that’s what it wants. You get distracted, then you make comments and ramble while we look which distracts me, and when Lydia snaps out of the memory, all you do is look at each other. You don’t talk or strategize. Then it all changes and starts over again.”

“Shit, Scott,” Stiles mutters as his eyes dart across the scene before him. “You’re right.”

He decisively tunes it all out, completely focuses, and soon the two of them cover the ground in just minutes before they find the book, touch it and start the whole thing over.

“Breathe, Lydia!”

Stiles goes cold at the sound of his own desperate, mangled voice. 

They’re hunched in the very back of the jeep, surrounded by absolute chaos, and Stiles can’t even remember why the hell he is there at all as he stares at the scene before him.

“Lydia… Please- Please, don’t-”

Tears spill down his cheeks as he watches Lydia dying in his grasp and he breaks all over again at the sight of one of his worst memories playing out again before his eyes.

“I love you. I l-love you, Lydia. I love you.”

It’s too much for him to handle. 

Stiles finds the book in seconds because he _has_ to get out of there now. He’s so fast that he actually picks up the book, has it in his grasp and can feel the weight of it on his palm.

Everything shifts again and Stiles crumbles in on himself as it disappears from his fingers, leaving him grasping at nothing but air. He falls to his knees on the carpeted floor, helpless, silent sobs shaking his form.

“This isn’t going to work,” he finally admits to himself as he looks over at Lydia where she is laying on her stomach on his bed, wrapping a red string around her finger. “This isn’t going to work! We can’t get the book. We’ll never be able to. It’s all just a distraction.”

Scott walks over and rests a hand on his best friend’s shoulder in support. “Stiles,” he starts, wanting to say something to give him hope but finding there is nothing really to say.

They’ve been at this for what is starting to feel like forever. Who knows how long it’s been in the real world.

And now the closer he looks at Lydia, the more clearly he can see the unusual pallor of her skin and the increasing dullness in her eyes. He knows this memory and he knows that’s not what she looked like that day. That Lydia, despite how upset she was, had looked healthy and safe. This Lydia looks nothing of the sort.

For the first time he knows deep down they are running out of time. He’s starting to doubt they will make it before they do.

“Hey, Lydia,” his former self starts softly as he crosses the room to kneel in front of her. “You have been right every time something like this has happened, okay? So don’t start doubting yourself now.”

“No scent. No bomb,” she points out, looking down at her fingers and pulling the red string even tighter around them. “And I got you in trouble.”

“Okay, look. Barrow was there. All right?” he assures her as he takes her hand. Gently, he begins to unwind the string from her finger. “You knew it. You felt it, okay? And look, if you wanted to, I’d go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it.”

Lydia presses her lips together and her eyes glaze over at Stiles’s unwavering belief in her.

The Stiles of her memory opens the marker as an idea clicks in his mind and is suddenly telling her to get up as he scrambles to his feet and starts immediately toward the door.

She doesn’t respond to him though, instead her gaze shifts to meet the real Stiles’s eyes from across the room, her lips still pressed together and the corner of her lips quirking up at him sadly.

“Lydia,” he calls out to her, his voice thick with tears, as he sits helplessly by with no idea how to help her any more.

She studies him for a long moment before her entire demeanor shifts, some idea taking hold of her and strengthening her resolve. Taking a deep breath, she turns away from him and lets her eyes fall shut.

“Lyds?”

Shaking her head, she clenches her eyes shut tighter and drops her head into her hands.

Concern floods Stiles’s veins and he starts to push himself up on his feet to get to her but pauses when he sees something flicker on the bed next to her.

The book.

Lydia looks up, eyes watery and bloodshot, and doesn’t flinch at the sight of the book suddenly at her side. It’s like she knew it would be there and Stiles realizes it’s because she made it appear there.

Cautiously she lifts a hand towards it, her eyes flickering to his in a silent question.

He gives a short nod and Lydia confidently lets her hand drop on the book.

The memory shifts like it always does but it feels different. He knows something has finally changed in the balance of their struggle with the Nogitsune.

His eyes drift towards Lydia’s house now a few yards away and his breath hitches at the sight of the young girl sitting on the front stoop and reading in the early morning light, exactly as he remembers her from when they were kids.

Every few seconds her eyes glance up from the page toward the sidewalk as if she’s waiting for something to appear before going back to reading.

The boys can only stand and watch, knowing now that this is all up to Lydia.

It’s not long before soft voices drift into the air, getting louder and louder as they approach. He knows instantly that it’s Scott and himself walking to school. They passed her house everyday and he’d always looked forward to the moment he would see her reading on the front steps. 

When he really watches Lydia closely though, he notices that she’s stopped reading but she’s no longer glancing up every so often either. Instead she seem to be fixed resolutely on the page open before her, cheeks blushing as the boys walk by talking loudly about baseball.

After a long minute, their young voices start to fade again and Lydia cautiously peeks up from her book, glancing toward the sidewalk where he and Scott just disappeared.

Carefully, Lydia closes her book with her finger between the pages to mark her spot before she jumps up from the porch, crossing the yard in a rush to get to the edge of the sidewalk. Slowly, she leans forward to look down after the two boys, a smile curling her lips as she watches them. 

Young Stiles starts to turn and look back over his shoulder and Lydia darts back, running quickly to her spot on the steps, giggling to herself all the way.

The simple sight warms his heart as he realizes that Lydia had actually been looking for him all the way back then.

She opens up her book once again to where her finger is still marking the page except it’s changed. It’s not the same book.

Stiles goes still, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches young Lydia’s eyes begin to run back and forth across the page, her lips forming words that he can’t make out above a continuous whisper.

_She has the book._

“Stiles,” he hears Scott mutter his name, low and cautious when he too realizes what is happening.

Stiles finds himself frozen though, watching as pieces of the scenery start to fall away as her lips move faster.

The wind picks up, the sky darkens overhead, and Lydia’s fingers grip the book tighter.

“Come on, Lydia,” he murmurs as he watches her, knowing this is the only hope they have. He doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to get the book back again after this.

For a split second, everything disappears and the bright white stillness of that endless room surrounds them and Lydia’s pale, bleeding form replaces her adolescent self, but her shoulders tense and shake and everything switches back again as if by her will. Her young voice grows stronger and he can finally hear the perfectly pronounced Latin words rolling continuously off her tongue.

The Nogitsune appears out of nowhere, charging his way toward the girl but Scott pounces on it, fangs and teeth ready to attack before it can reach her.

Their surroundings flash briefly to that white room again and when it switches back Lydia doesn’t turn young again. Instead she looks like her current self, deathly pale with dark circles under her eyes and a way too much blood stained on her side. She doesn’t stop though, her voice working and morphing into this crackling, raw sound that tears through her throat.

Stiles pushes himself shakily to his feet and cautiously begins to approach her, not wanting to break her concentration but instinctively needing to get nearer to her.

Her voice gets louder, gains strength as the wind blows harder and the sky turns blacker.

He falls to his knees in front of her as she shouts out the last few words over the now gusting wind.

She slams the book shut and everything stops. The wind, the sky… 

Everything is peaceful.

“Stiles,” she breathes his name as her gaze meets his, relieved at the sight of him still okay. Her lips part to say more when she suddenly turns even paler, her eyes drooping in a way that has Stiles darting froward to hold her upright.

“Lydia! Lydia!” he calls to her, tapping her cheek to keep her awake.

Her eyes roll and she blinks to try to right her vision.

“Stiles…”

“We gotta get out of here!” Scott commands as he rushes over and stumbles down next to them on the steps, his clothing splattered with a black, thick liquid. “We gotta go now.”

“Yeah, Lyds, we’re done here now, right? Can you get us out?”

Her brow furrows as she looks from Stiles to Scott curiously. “Where did he go?”

“The Nogitsune? I- I was fighting him and he disappeared when everything stopped. He’s gone.”

Her eyes widen and she’s instantly more alert. “Gone where?”

“Gone, dead, I thought,” Stiles interjects, dread building in him as he studies her. “You did the ritual so now its over.”

The scene around them disappears and they are in the endless white room yet again, huddled together on the floor. Overhead the lights flicker, the ones farthest away falling dark completely before the next row follows and the darkness spreads closer.

“You have to go,” Lydia frantically commands, pushing away from Stiles’s hold on her with shaking hands. “You have to leave.”

Stiles shakes his head forcefully. “No way! I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to! I know what I have to do and you have to leave, now!”

“No!” he yells as he reaches for her again.

She shrinks back and avoids his touch, tears welling in her eyes as she resolutely ignores Stiles and turns to the alpha. “Scott, you have to get out of here! There’s not much time, you have to go!”

“Scott, don’t you dare!“

“Lydia, I-“ Scott starts, torn between his best friend, his pack mate, and the approaching darkness.

“Please, Scott,” Lydia begs on a desperate sob. “I have to do something but you can’t be here! Please! Please, _get him out of here!_ ”

Stiles mouth falls open, a fierce argument on the tip of his tongue, but he barely gets out a syllable before Lydia fades away and he is suddenly gasping awake to a reality where he’s sitting on the side of the Nemeton.

“Lydia,” he whispers as his eyes dart frantically to where she is laid out next to him on the ancient tree stump. His heart pounds in his chest, panic already seizing up his lungs at how impossibly still and pale she is, but the sight of the pool of blood that has spread to where it just touches the side of his leg is what pushes him over the edge.

Scott is pulling his claws from her neck when Stiles dives at him.

“How could you?! How could you leave her, Scott?!”

His hands grasp desperately at his best friend, balling in the collar of his shirt and pulling it tight in blind rage.

“Hey! Stiles! Stiles!” the familiar voice of his father calls out before arms wrap around his middle and yank him back. “You gotta calm down!”

He shakes his head desperately, trying to wrench himself out of his father’s grasp. “We have to go back in! We have to! We have to-”

“I’m sorry!” Scott sobs at his best friend. “She begged me to! The ritual wasn’t enough! You heard her, she said she had to do something else.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

Both boys turn at the voice to notice Deaton for the first time, standing nearby with Derek hovering behind him.

“Lydia was somehow able to find the ritual and get that book all on her own. She figured out that she needed the lichen and the power of the Nemeton for it to work. She knows what she’s doing, Stiles, I assure you.”

His anger deflates slightly at that. He trusts Lydia. He knows how unbelievably smart and strong she is; he’s always known.

He takes a deep breath and rights himself before stepping out of his father’s grasp toward Lydia. Carefully, he resumes his place at her side and takes her hand in his again, threading his shaky fingers through hers.

“Lydia,” he breathes her name watching helplessly as her chest rises and falls slower and slower as the seconds tick by. “Please, just… You gotta come back.”

Unconsciously her head tilts toward him just the slightest at the sound of his voice.

“Lydia, wake up. Open you eyes. _Please._ ” He hugs her hand to his chest, the back of it pressed over his heart. “Come on, Lyds…”

Her green eyes flash open, her lungs sucking in a huge, desperate breath that seems to catch in her throat and choke her as she pulls tight on Stiles’s hand in hers. In the next second she is scrambling to sit up on the ancient tree stump, a deafening scream tearing through her and filling the air, stabbing into the eardrums of everyone around her and sending them cowering to the ground with their hands over their ears. 

All of them except for Stiles, who flinches and grits his teeth at the pain but holds her hand tighter, refusing to let go of her as her body shakes through the earthquake of a noise.

Eventually the scream tapers off, leaving Lydia trembling and out of breath, her lids drooping as she dazedly looks to the boy next to her.

“Stiles?”

A sob escapes him at the sound of her raspy voice and his arms jump out to hold her, supporting her weak frame and hugging her fiercely.

“Stiles,” she whispers his name again in relief as she leans into him. “It’s over, Sitles. It’s gone.”

He murmurs her name back tearfully, wrapping his fingers in her hair at the base of her neck and pressing his lips against her temple. “Lydia, w-we gotta-” he stutters as he looks over her to his father and best friend a few feet away, “We gotta get you to the hospital, okay?”

She shakes her head in weak protest but there’s a different voice that speaks up to argue.

“No hospital,” Deaton cuts in. “We’re taking her to the clinic.”

“You want to take her to the vet?” he all but shouts back, shaking his head vehemently as he starts to shift Lydia in his grasp to help her up. “She needs to go to the hospital. She’s lost too much blood.”

“He’s right, Stiles,” his father tries to convince his son as he steps forward to help. “All of that powder in her blood, we can’t explain that and Deaton says they can’t help her with that part of this.”

“I have almost everything Lydia needs on hand,” the vet quickly assures the teenager, ”but Allison is helping Melissa get a few things from the hospital and they’re going to meet us there. In fact, they’re probably there already.”

Stiles looks uncertainly at the vet before looking to his best friend and his father.

“This is what we need to do, Stiles,” his dad assures him confidently while Scott sniffles and nods at his side.

“Okay, we’ll go to the clinic.”

He carefully holds Lydia up as he steps off the tree stump, Scott rushing up to help. The alpha moves to pick up the banshee when she starts to fall but Stiles quickly steps forward himself, unwilling to let go of Lydia for even a second.

She whimpers as she lifts her arms to wrap around his neck when he lifts her up. “Sorry, sorry,” he quickly apologizes as he holds her to him and starts to follow the other’s lead through the forest. “Just stay awake, okay? I need you to stay with me.”

She rests her cheek against his chest and clings to him. “I’m okay,” she tries to assure him but it seems hollow as she continues to whimper every few steps as they move between the trees.

Finally they reach a clearing where the cars are waiting for them and the Sheriff and Scott help Lydia and Stiles into the back of the squad car. Within seconds they are screeching out of the preserve, sirens blaring, while Derek and Deaton follow behind them.

Lydia’s breath hitches at the pain in her side as she settles in Stiles’s lap and Scott reacts instantly, reaching over the seat to touch her wrist to take her pain.

Her eyes droop as the alpha’s veins run black and she somehow finds it in her to shake off his fingers. 

“Lydia-"

“The pain, it’s-,” she starts, her voice tight as she looks between the human and the alpha, “it’s keeping me awake.”

“We’re not far from the clinic,” the Sheriff assures the teenagers and all of them can feel the car pick up speed as they turn onto the city streets.

Scott reluctantly turns around and Lydia focuses her watery gaze solely on Stiles.

“Lydia,” Stiles breathes her name as he carefully brushes her hair from her face. “You’re going to be fine, okay?”

“It was those memories. The ones with you,” she dazedly begins to explain, ignoring his worrying over her. Her hand snakes up to grip the front of his t-shirt. “T-They made me see- see how much you’ve believed in me. When you said you’d go back to the school and search all night…”

The corner of his lips turn up at her, his eyes glassy as he cups her cheek.

“I realized I needed to trust that I could do it myself, like you trusted me.”

He can’t help it when he leans down and kisses her cheek then, lips lingering against her skin. Hearing her voice after what feels like so long and almost losing her again…

She whimpers in pain as she tightens her hand in the front of his shirt. "Stiles..."

“We’re here,” Scott suddenly announces and within seconds, the car is rolling to a halt in the parking lot.

Stiles and Scott work together to get her out of the car and to the clinic, the door flying open as Melissa quickly ushers them inside.

“Take her in back and get her on the table,” the nurse orders as she follows the stumbling teens into the back room and toward the shiny metal surface. 

Stiles has barely lifted her onto the table before Melissa is at her other side, cutting away the bloody fabric of her nightgown and peeling it away from her wound.

“How bad is it?” Allison’s voice suddenly rings out as she enters the room carrying in a steel box that looks like cooler.

“Could have been worse. I need you to get that IV ready.”

“IV?” Stiles questions, feeling dizzy at the thought as he holds Lydia’s opposite hand in his.

The nurse only nods as she wets a piece of gauze with what Stiles thinks is some kind of antiseptic. “Okay, Lydia, I’m sorry but this is going to hurt like hell.”

The second the material touches her, Lydia cries out, scrunching her eyes tight and squeezing Stiles’s hand as she arches away.

“Hold her!” the nurse orders as she tries to clean the lichen from the wound while the strawberry blonde writhes on the table.

Stiles reaches out his arm and carefully tries to hold her steady. “Lydia. Lyds, hey. Look at me, Lydia.”

She lets out a choked noise somewhere between a whimper and a sob and shakes her head fiercely, squeezing her eyes shut tighter as Melissa prods at her side. Her whole body is trembling as she arches away again instinctively and Stiles is overcome with nausea when he has to hold her down with nearly all his strength.

Desperately, he turns to his best friend who is looking on helplessly. “You gotta take her pain.”

Scott looks unsure. “She said it was going to make her pass out if-“

“Do it,” the nurse cuts in and pauses just long enough to give her son a pointed look. “She’ll be fine, I promise. Passing out now would probably be a blessing.”

Lydia lets out a pitiful sob through her gritted teeth as the nurse begins to add more solution to the cut.

“Okay, yeah,” the alpha quickly agrees, unable to watch any longer.

Stiles lets go of Lydia’s hand and Scott immediately steps forward to take it in his.

“Lyds,” Stiles calls out to her as he takes her face in his hands. He leans in close, watching the way her features relax as the pain leaves her. 

Her eyes blink open and she looks up at him sleepily. “Stiles?”

“I’m here,” he assures her, his voice low and soothing. “Everything is going to be okay, alright? You’re just going to sleep for a bit and let us take care of you. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She nods sluggishly, her eyelids drooping.

He leans down and kisses her forehead, brushing his thumb against her cheek.

When he pulls back she's already passed out, her long lashes resting against her pale skin and her breath soft and even from between her parted lips.

Forcing himself to step back, he looks to Scott and sees his veins fading back into his skin, then looks to Melissa and see a mess of blood as she readies a needle.

He can't take it. Everything that's happened...

_It's too much._

Lightheaded and overwhelmed, he stumbles away on wobbly legs before turning into the corner and emptying his stomach into the trash.


	10. Chapter 10

“This looks familiar.”

Stiles looks up to see Melissa walking into the room with a warm smile on her face.

He tries to smile back but it doesn’t work because he is holding Lydia’s hand while she recovers from _another_ life threatening injury and he’s trying to convince himself that she’s going to be okay. This should have never become something familiar.

He quietly watches Melissa start checking Lydia’s vitals and futzing with the dark red IV bag.

“So how exactly did you steal blood from the hospital without anyone noticing?”

The nurse looks over at him, aghast. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never do something like that since I definitely would lose my job.”

“Sure,” Stiles mutters rolls his eyes but then it occurs to him. “Allison?”

Melissa smirks at him. “Allison.”

He nods and looks toward the doorway, noticing the hush that has fallen over the clinic. “Is everyone still here?”

She finishes up and steps around the table. “Well, let’s see; Derek just left, Deaton is putting together some concoction in the back, and your dad offered to go on a coffee run because I think Allison and Scott are just about asleep in the waiting area and I could use the caffeine.”

A soft smile curls Stiles’s lips at that. “Figures. Dad’s not very good at sitting around doing nothing.”

“Sounds like a common Stilinski trait.”

Stiles softly chuckles just as Lydia shifts on the examining table next to him. 

Both human grow serious and all their focus moves to Lydia Stiles jumping to his feet and leaning over her as Melissa rounds the table to her other side.

Her green eyes gradually open, drowsily blinking to focus. Once they do, she turns toward Stiles on instinct. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets back with a sigh of relief, smiling down at her affectionately. “You’re okay.”

She nods, her eyes suddenly shining up at him. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

He can hear the disbelief in her voice and he realizes then just how unsure she was about the ritual working. It bothers him in a way he can’t really define.

Holding Lydia’s hand, he stands at her side as Melissa explains the stitches and the blood loss then asks her questions about her pain level. By the time she gives Lydia a couple pills and tells her she has to stay put and get more sleep, Stiles is completely lost in his thoughts.

“Are _you_ okay, Stiles?”

He snaps to back to attention to see Lydia’s tired eyes on him, filled with concern. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Pressing her lips together, she scrutinizes him for a long moment before quietly admitting, “I’m sorry if I worried you. I didn’t mean to. Really.”

Stiles shrugs and forces himself to smile at her. “It’s okay.”

But in the back of his mind, he knows that somehow it’s not.

It’s not long before Lydia falls asleep again and Stiles lets himself drift off for the first time too. 

He stirs to find a note from his dad and a luke warm coffee waiting for him on the metal counter. He sips at the bitter drink as his mind works, trying to figure out this foreign feeling starting to overtake him.

It’s just the four teenagers in the room the next time Lydia wakes up. Allison and Scott are sitting on the other side of Lydia, relaxed and smiling with relief, but all Stiles can feel is a fog of apprehension surrounding him. 

Deaton makes Lydia drink some mixture of herbs and tonics that makes her over dramatically freak out at the apparently horrid taste and Allison and Scott can't help but crack up at the face she makes while she downs it. 

Stiles doesn’t even crack a smile.

His eyes drift across the room and catch on that fricking book from the Nemeton with the ritual and that feeling that has been niggling at the back of his mind flares.

“Where did you get the book?”

Lydia’s face falls at the abrupt question and she turns to study him from where she sits a top the examination table. She opens her mouth to respond, hesitates as if to rethink her answer, and then finally says, “I found online that they had it at this old bookstore a couple of towns over.”

Stiles leans forward in his seat, scrutinizing her. “How did you get it?”

Lydia shrugs and tries to be nonchalant but can’t help how thrown she is by the change in his demeanor. “I went there.”

“When?”

“Yesterday,” she answers briefly, glancing around the room to see Allison and Scott avoiding eye contact as the room starts to fill with sudden tension. “In the morning, after my mom went to the airport.”

He remembers how absolutely broken she was when he got to her house last night and how shaken he was because of it but it’s all completely different now that he knows what she was clearly planning to do the whole time. He can feel his frustration with her morphing into anger and he grits his teeth before pressing her for more. “And you found out about the book when?”

“Stiles,” Scott tries to intervene, sensing where this is going, but Stiles ignores him.

“When did you find out about the book?” he stands up and repeats his question louder. "When did you even start looking for it?”

She avoids his gaze as she hesitantly admits, “A few days ago.”

“ _A few days?_ ” Stiles echoes in near revulsion, going wide-eyed as it all clicks in his head. “You were planning this for awhile, weren’t you?”

Her bottom lip quivers. “Well, I mean-“

“When did you realize what was going on?”

“Stiles, I-“

“When did you know the Nogitsune was in your head?” he demands, his face twisting with a mix of complete disbelief and rage. “Better yet, when did you first think that there was even the _slightest_ possibility that it might be?”

Lydia’s eyes narrow at him, her defenses rising at Stiles of all people so obviously furious with her. All of her emotions instantly lock away as she turns too cool and even, challenging him with her cold gaze. “Is there something you want to say to me, Stiles?”

He narrows his gaze right back at her, ready to go off, but he catches sight of the IV still hanging over her head and remembers she’s wearing a too big t-shirt from the trunk of his dad’s cruiser because they had to cut her nightgown off. Reluctantly, he backs off because he shouldn’t be doing this now. “No.”

She has the audacity to let a small smirk of what seems like triumph curl the corner of her lips at his answer and all of his frustration instantly ramps right back up, drowning everything else out. 

“Wait, you know what? Yes. You should have told me! How the hell could you not tell me?”

“Because I knew you would have stopped me!” she fires back, pointedly ignoring the betrayal and disappointment shining in his eyes and mixing with his anger. “You know I had to do this, Stiles.”

“No, I don’t! I don’t know because I don’t know what other options there were. We could have figured something else out _together_. Something that wouldn’t have put your life at risk like this.”

“I looked, Stiles. There wasn’t anything else.”

“You don’t know that!” he snaps at her, beyond exasperated. “It’s barely been a week. There was more time. We could have found something! I mean, the thing died the first time when Scott bit it and you’re immune. We could have-“

“No, Stiles,” she cuts in, rolling her eyes in annoyance because he won’t just accept what she is saying. “That wouldn’t have been enough.”

“It could have been! You didn’t even think about it, though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she dismisses easily. “It wouldn’t have fixed everything.”

He furrows his brow at her, eyes hard as he surveys her reaction when it occurs to him. “You mean it wouldn’t have made you a banshee again.” 

She remains quietly avoiding his gaze and he knows he’s right. 

“Lydia, who cares about you being a banshee?”

“I do!” she bursts at him, glaring at him fiercely. “Don’t you get that? I want to be able to help! I know I don’t completely understand what all I can do yet but what if someday I do? What if I can know when someone in the pack is going to die before it happens? What if someday I’m able to hear something that prevents _you_ from dying?”

He scoffs and shakes his head at her. “Don’t act like you did this for me, Lydia.”

“This supernatural stuff isn’t going away,” she continues, trying to make him see her logic. “This is what the rest of our lives are going to be like and I don’t want any more of them to end anytime soon. I needed to do this so I can help.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t help anyone if you’re dead!”

The words rip from Stiles, echo against the walls and hang in the air, his raw pain palpable. He steps closer to her, angry tears in his amber eyes as he implores her to see all of it from his perspective.

“I need you to be _alive_ , Lydia,” he grounds out, tears dripping down his cheeks. “What if we hadn’t been able to find you? What if we hadn’t been able to help? You would have _died_. Don’t you get that?” 

“Stiles-“

“You would have been gone, ceased to exist, leaving all of us trying to deal with this giant hole in our lives where you used to be. All because you refused to ask for help.”

Lydia’s eyes go stone cold at his final accusation. “Well, I’m sorry I’m used to dealing with things on my own but I think I’ve done a pretty good job of it so far.”

He scoffs at her in disbelief, unable to stop the betrayal he feels from _I don’t need you_ behind her words. After all that he’s done for her.

“Yeah, you’re doing just great on your own, aren’t you?” he bites back sarcastically. “Maybe I should just get the hell out of here then since you’ve clearly got everything under control.”

“Maybe you should.”

Stiles jaw drops at her quick, unflinching reply. For a second, it’s like he can’t think because he can’t believe she would dismiss him so easily after _everything_. He waits, subconsciously giving her a chance to backtrack. He silently begs her to please _just take it back_.

Her jaw locks and her eyes light with defiance as the silence persists and grows heavier.

Realizing it’s over, she’s not going to budge, he lets out a short humorless laugh and shakes his head at her. “Unbelievable.”

Not waiting another second, he turns away. Roughly, he wipes his sleeve across his eyes as stomps across the examination room before slamming open the back door, leaving Lydia’s side without looking back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me longer to update this time around. I will try not to let it go so long next time. Enjoy the new chapter!

Stiles decides that the distance from the animal clinic to the Sheriff’s station isn’t nearly long enough as he makes the last turn, hands shoved in his pockets and scowl firmly in place. 

He was expecting to have come to some kind of conclusion about what the hell to do or have figured out exactly what he feels by the time he got this far. Instead all he’s done is let himself be consumed by his frustration with a certain strawberry blonde to the point where he can barely form a coherent thought at all. 

He’s also resolutely ignored his best friend dutifully following ten feet behind him the entire walk over.

He pushes open the door to the station, barely glancing at anyone who even attempts to politely greet him inside and stomps his way to his father’s office.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff greets in surprise and quickly steps up behind his file covered desk. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here. Everything okay with Lyd-“

“I need a ride,” Stiles cuts off his dad before he can finish her name, his voice as tired and worn as he feels, “to the preserve. The jeep is still there.”

The sheriff scrutinizes his son as he slowly rounds his desk. His eyes go soft as he reaches out and rests a hand on his shoulder, sensing something’s gone amiss. “Sure thing, kiddo.” His eyes drift over his son’s shoulder. “You need one, too?”

Stiles looks back to see Scott hovering in the doorway, a sheepish look on his face as he shrugs. “I left my bike there.”

The sheriff lets out a soft, warm laugh at that, nodding. “Of course you did,” he mutters, reaching to grab his keys from the cup on his desk, but instead of then moving to leave, he pauses. He looks between the two teenagers with warm eyes. “You know, you boys did a really good thing last night. You should be proud.”

Stiles looks away and tightens his jaw, trying to keep himself in check.

“Stiles?”

“Are you ready?” he asks to avoid his father’s tone and steps back out of his reach.

The sheriff lets out a sigh and reluctantly nods. “Yeah, let’s head out.”

The ride is quiet, the only sound breaking the tension being the intermittent break ins by the police scanner. They’re all thinking about the ride in that same vehicle the night before but no one says a word about it.

All of them get out when they pull into the patchy, worn area of grass they had used as a parking lot the night before. Scott goes for his tossed aside bike while Stiles heads for the Jeep, his father hovering a few steps behind.

He glances at Lydia’s car where it sits haphazardly nearby where Stiles had parked it last night but he ignores his instinct to figure out its return to her. She can figure out how to get it herself since she’s so good at dealing with things on her own, he decides.

But as he gets closer to his Jeep, it becomes abundantly clear to him now that Lydia wasn’t in any rush when she got to the preserve last night. The Jeep is parked perfectly parallel to the tree line and the wheels are all turned straight ahead. He panics for a second when he realizes he doesn’t know what she did with his keys but when he opens the door he sees them sitting in the cupholder waiting for him.

He hops inside and hisses when his knees hit the dashboard, the seat obviously adjusted for Lydia’s height. Looking around, he sees her cell phone on the passenger seat with the sweatshirt of his she’d been wearing over her nightgown last night carefully folded next to it.

A rush of emotions hits him and suddenly he’s biting his lip to keep from crying.

Dropping his head to rest against the steering wheel, still so scrunched up in the seat, he takes a long steady breath and tries as hard as he can to keep it together.

“Stiles.” 

His father’s voice cuts the still air, soft and close, before he feels a hand on his back.

“How could she not tell me?” He looks up at his dad betrayal shining in his eyes. “You saw how she was that night in the rain. She knew then- She _had_ to. Hell, she might have known since we found her in the tunnels for all I know.”

Shaking his head to himself, his gaze drifts, out the windshield and off into the preserve. He takes a shaky breath as his dad’s hand rubs across his back.

“She planned the whole thing out. Almost _killed herself_ ,” he continues, barely above a whisper. “How could she do that? Why didn’t she let me help her?”

Pressing his lips together in thought, the sheriff carefully considers his son before speaking. “You know, Stiles, in all my years of experience, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a situation where someone didn’t have a motive for their actions. It isn’t always apparent right away, and I definitely don’t always agree with it, but it’s always there. Eventually, you figure out the why.”

Stiles listens to his father’s words, warily glancing up at him.

“And most of the time, once you know what the motivation behind something was, everything else makes sense. The pieces just fall into place,” the sheriff continues, his voice soft and sure. “Give her time. She’ll come around.”

Contemplating that, Stiles lets out a shaky breath and grips the steering wheel tight.

“You gonna head home?”

Stiles nods, distracted with his thoughts. “Yeah. Yeah, I just want to lay in bed. Try to sleep if I can.”

“Good,” the sheriff affirms, squeezing Stiles’s shoulder. “I should be done on time tonight so maybe we could have dinner? We haven’t really had a chance to do that since summer practically.”

A small, melancholy smile curls his lips at that. “That sounds good.”

The sheriff smiles back softly and doesn’t hesitate to go in for a hug, which Stiles returns fiercely, before he turns to leave.

Stiles lets out a sigh as soon as his father is out of earshot.

He reaches under the seat and pulls the lever to adjust its position, pushing it back to it’s usual spot so he can stretch his legs. Grabbing the keys, he quickly turns on the engine.

Within seconds he hears his best friend’s motorbike finally roar to life too and he can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him because of course Scott was still there waiting. He turns to check if he has room to pull out and his eyes catch on Lydia’s phone and the sweatshirt still sitting there next to him.

_Give her time._

Taking a shaky breath and forcing himself to listen to his dad, he hits the gas and pulls out of the grassy lot and onto the road, the alpha following behind him the whole way home.

\-------

Stiles gives Lydia’s cell phone to Scott, who passes it on to Allison to give to Lydia.

He knows she has to have it back by the next morning because there’s no way Allison would let her best friend be home alone without a phone, but she doesn’t send him any messages.

He doesn’t send her anything either, no matter how badly he wants to. 

There was a point where he could have endured anything Lydia threw at him just fine, would have even expected her to act like he was completely inconsequential to her life, but they were way past that now. He’s too wounded to put himself out there to her. He can’t do it, not this time.

His dad decides to add Lydia’s street to his nightly patrol route and lets him know that her car is back at her house by the next night. The lights haven’t been on inside though, at least none that the sheriff could see.

Stiles still doesn’t send her anything. 

Lydia still doesn’t try to reach him.

“She’s not talking to me either,” Allison sympathizes when Stiles sees her at Scott’s house after school, three days and counting since his and Lydia’s fight. “I haven’t heard from her since I took her to pick up her car.”

He bites his lip against the overwhelming worry he can’t help but feel.

“Isn’t that normal?” the alpha tries to reason with and reassure the two humans. “I don’t remember her having heart to hearts with anyone about the whole Peter thing.”

Allison shakes her head and avoids eye contact as she admits, “She tried to talk to me a couple times while it was happening. With everything that was going on though, I just…”

“And I think she might have been about to tell me about it once,” Stiles speaks up when Allison trails off, “kept saying I was going to think she was crazy. Then Jackson decided to lizard out and trap me in a pool for two hours so she was less open to conversation after I ditched out on her.”

“It just never really came up again after it was over,” Allison concludes with a weak shrug. “I guess she figured it out on her own.”

Stiles sighs and drops his gaze because it's too much like what Lydia had snapped at him at the clinic. _She deals with things on her own. _He’s been inside her head, seen her absolute worst memories play out, some of them things he didn’t have a clue about and knows she never spoke of to anyone. He knows it’s true that Lydia has always been more on her own than any of them.__

“But it shouldn’t be like that anymore,” he thinks out loud, shaking his head to himself as he looks up at his friends. “She has to realize she can’t deal with everything on her own all the time because at some point it’s going to be too much. Hell, this was too much.” 

“I don’t think there is anything we can really do about it though. She’s too stubborn to listen to any advice we give her.”

Scott nods his agreement with the huntress. “Well, she’ll have to talk to one of us at some point. She’s supposed to be back at school in a few days, right?”

“I guess so,” Stiles answers with a shrug. “With how many days she’s already missed, she has to be going back soon.”

“And she’ll probably be dressed to perfection, acting like everything is fine,” Allison guesses, rolling her eyes in frustration at the thought. “It’ll be like nothing ever happened. Business as usual.”

Stiles sighs, suddenly anxious because besides his obvious concern for Lydia’s safety and well-being, that is his biggest fear. That everything will go right back to the way it was before everything- before nemetons and Nogitsunes took over their lives. That how close he and Lydia had been the last couple weeks will completely vanish, disappear like it never even happened with a simple roll of Lydia’s unrelenting green eyes.

Shrugging, Scott looks uncertainly between the two humans. “Would that really be so bad?”

Stiles can’t bring himself to answer because really there aren’t many things he can think of that would be worse.

\-------

The house is eerily quiet as Stiles lays in bed that night.

His dad has the night shift so he’s home alone, something he’s certainly not unfamiliar with, but the weather is too calm outside without even a breath of wind and the nearly full moon is shining bright through his window and onto the floor.

He watches the way the shadows shift across the carpet as time passes, his digital clock flashing midnight, then 1 o’clock, and eventually 2.

Insomnia is something he’s dealt with to some degree since his mom died but it definitely intensified after his best friend was bitten by a werewolf and a whole world of supernatural threats became real. Ever since they sacrificed themselves to the Nemeton though, it’s been getting worse and worse and the Nogitsune taking over pushed it into insufferable territory. Adding worrying about Lydia on top of everything else makes him wonder why he even bothers to try to sleep at all anymore.

His phone buzzes on his bedside table and his heart is instantly jumping because it’s 2:34 in the morning and nothing good can come from a text at this time of night. Not in his world.

He swipes up his phone and his eyes widen to see Lydia’s name glowing on the screen.

Instantly he is fumbling to unlock his phone, fingers clumsily opening his messages.

_You awake?_

Without any hesitation he writes back a simple and direct answer: _Yes_

But the seconds start to tick by and soon it’s been _minutes_ and she doesn’t send anything back, doesn’t even start typing, and he quickly descends into anxious panicking about his response. 

He should have said more, maybe something in his usual wheelhouse of witty and self-deprecating to get her talking. Or he should have asked her why she wanted to know or why she was up at that time of the night too. Or he should have tried to be coy or- or _something!_

He tosses aside his phone and runs his hands over his face in frustration when the quiet of the house breaks with the unmistakable sound of knocking on the front door.

Scrambling to get out of bed, he gets all tangled up in the sheets and falls to the ground, swearing and flailing until he’s back on his feet. He makes it down the stairs as fast as his limbs will cooperate with and his bare feet pound across the wood floors of the living room until he’s suddenly throwing open the door.

Lydia’s eyes dart up to meet his instantly, green irises swimming in unshed tears and her full bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She’s hugging herself, arms crossed tight over a long coat while her bare legs endure the cool night air.

He freezes at the sight of her, unsure of what the hell to do or say to her after he tried to do _everything_ he could for this girl and it still wasn’t enough for her to trust him. After she almost left him and this whole world for good.

“Hi,” she finally whispers, voice cracking.

For a split second he thinks he might lose it again just like he did at the clinic because it's been almost four days and all she has to say is hi? _Really?_

But then she blinks up at him, sending a few tears slipping past her lashes that she doesn’t wipe away and his heart is suddenly pounding because he knows that she’s trying. She’s not pretending anymore. 

He swallows roughly and echoes back, “Hi.” 

Lydia hesitantly steps closer to him, eyes too vulnerable as she asks, “Do you think we could talk?” 

The corner of his lip twitches up in a sad smile because he wants that more than anything in the world. “Yeah. Of course,” he assures her before stepping back and nodding for her to come inside. 

She quirks her lips up at him, more tears falling as she steps past him. 

It’s on impulse that he reaches out and catches her hand in his, carefully intertwining their fingers when her head whips in his direction in surprise. 

Without looking away from her wide, green eyes, he reaches back and closes the door tight. Then he gently tugs on their clasped hands, pulling her deeper into the house. “Come on.” 

Lydia squeezes his hand tight and doesn’t hesitate to follow his lead wherever he takes her. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos- I appreciate it! Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Stiles carefully leads Lydia through the dark house and up to his room, eyes darting to hers every few steps because he's so scared she's going to change her mind about this. That she'll pull away and decide to go back to hiding again in a heartbeat.

When he closes his door behind them though, Lydia turns into him in a sudden rush, pressing her face against his chest and laying a trembling had across his heart. It completely catches him off guard, part of him still expecting a fight after how they’d screamed at each other at the clinic, but he doesn’t hesitate to curl his arms around her and hold her close.

She’s still crying, he can feel her tears rapidly soaking through his t-shirt, but her breathing is even and her touch is steady. It feels so open and raw and it’s the most vulnerable Lydia has ever allowed herself to be in front of him, maybe in front of anyone.

“In the back of the Jeep, when I thought I was dying,” her thick, raspy voice breaks the silence of the room, “I couldn’t really get my eyes to stay focused and everything sounded like it was far away... All I knew for sure was that you were there.”

Stiles’s heart starts pounding, overwhelmed with memories as he pulls her tighter against him.

“I could feel your arms around me and hear your voice,” Lydia continues softly, pressing her palm more firmly against his chest. “I don’t know what made me reach out, but when I felt you breathing and your heart beating… I was so _relieved_. All I could think was how glad I was that you were going to be okay. So when I couldn’t breathe and I started to panic, I focused on your heartbeat and that you were safe and I knew everything was going to work out even if I wasn’t there to see it happen.”

“Lyds…”

“You asked me once why I do this, feel your heartbeat. That’s why, Stiles. Because it makes me feel like everything is going to be okay because you’re there and you’re _safe-_ ”

He’s crying then too, messy tears streaking down his cheeks. Her words hit him hard and he can’t help it when he roughly shakes his head, pulling away to cradle her face in his hands and fiercely meet her eyes. “Let me make this very clear, Lydia. I’m not okay if you’re not okay. You got that?”

Her face crumples, her small hands curling over his wrists as she nods into his hands. “Me too, Stiles. I’m not- I _need_ you.”

The desperation in her voice sends him forward, lips pressing against hers with an urgency he’s never felt before. She matches it fervently, like she’s trying to get as much of him as she can.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out breathlessly against his lips, fingers digging into his t-shirt to keep him close. “I’m so sorry, Stiles. I should have told you. I should have. God, and how I talked to you at the clinic…”

“It’s okay,” he immediately tries to reassure her because that’s what he does but she quickly shakes her head.

“It’s not. You were right, Stiles, I knew how risky what I did was. When you showed up at my house that night, I was relieved because I wanted to see you again, incase I…”

That reawakens some of the frustration he’d felt during their fight at the clinic. _“Lydia-“_

“I know. I know how awful that is. I just- I wanted to keep you safe,” she tries to explain, eyes pleading with him to understand. “The nightmares I was having and the things the Nogitsune would threaten to do…”

“What did he say to you?”

She opens her mouth to respond but then closes it again as if she’s not sure where to even start.

“Lyds, you have to tell me what was going on.”

“I know, it’s just…” she trails off and sighs, taking her eyes off him and looking around his moonlit room until her eyes land on his bed. “Maybe we could sit first?”

He eyes her for a moment, appraising her avoidance and taking a moment to really study her for the first time that night. The bags under her eyes aren’t any better than the last time he saw her, in fact they’re probably worse, while she still looks too thin and her skin is so pale and it jolts him into action. Within seconds he’s leading her over to the bed, feeling like an idiot for not insisting she sit down sooner. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she quietly assures him as she lets him take her coat off her shoulders. “Melissa stopped by to do a check up this afternoon and said everything is fine. My stitches are healing like they should.”

He carefully hangs her coat over the back of his desk chair and when he turns around, she’s already kicked off her shoes and has her bare feet curled under her on the side of his bed. His heart warms at how comfortable she seems in his space. “You been able to get any sleep?”

She shrugs at him as he sits next to her. “Not really. An hour or two here or there since Deaton let me leave the clinic,” she admits and reaches out to take his hand in hers, watching his fingers to avoid his eyes. “Before that though, I don’t think I slept more than an hour in total after I got out of the hospital.”

“What? But the night it was storming, when you came here-“

She shakes her head. “I watched you sleep, memorized your room, hypothesized how your evidence wall became a pile on the floor…”

He blushes but can’t dwell on that. Instead he squeezes her hand as he moves closer to her because if the Nogitsune was in her head, he knows why she couldn’t sleep. “Nightmares?”

“Nightmares,” she confirms quietly and they both know there’s no one else in the world who understands the terror of those dreams better than the other. A few moments pass as Lydia fidgets with his fingers, silently gathering the courage to give voice to all the secrets she kept.

“I knew he was in my head when I got out of the hospital,” she admits in a rush, glancing up at him for an instant and looking away again before she lets herself register his reaction. “I had nightmares every time I slept while I was there but I had almost died because of a spirit performing a ritual on me; nightmares seemed like the most logical side effect of it all. The last night though, he was there and he threatened everyone. _Especially_ you. He was sure if he had killed me while he was still in control of you, he would have won. He knew it would be the same if he made me kill you. He'd win.”

Stiles can’t formulate a response, just watches the side of her face carefully and hangs on her every word.

“I decided it was likely he gained power from dreams because you had been sleep walking and experienced night terrors and I was already starting down the same path. So I tried not to sleep at all after I realized what was going on. I made it through the first night fine, mostly because I had slept so much at the hospital and I was consumed with researching. By the second night though, I was exhausted. I couldn’t help it.”

She chews her lip, shaking her head to herself. “It was _so real._ I didn’t even realize it was a dream until I woke up sitting at my desk, coughing up blood from trying to scream myself awake without my voice.”

Heartbreaking, he’s suddenly wrapping his arm around her because he knows that paralyzing terror and hates the thought of her ever having to experience it.

_“I killed you.”_

Immediately he stills at her soft, strained words, eyes widening as he feels fresh tears drip onto his hand where she grips it in her lap.

“We were in the library studying after school and I- I _attacked_ you,” she continues, barely above a whisper, her green eyes staring off, unfocused. “I tried everything I could to stop, my mind was screaming and begging for it to just stop, but it was like the Nogitsune had control over my body. I got you on the ground with my hands around your throat… You- You wouldn’t fight back, not enough, and- and I-”

“Hey, hey,” he breathes, trying to soothe her and stop her because he can’t listen to any more, can’t imagine what the rest of that dream, a dream that felt so real, was like and doesn’t want to know.

“After that dream, I thought the best course of action was to avoid sleep completely,” she concludes, some strength returning to her voice as she describes the decisions she made. “All I did whenever I was alone and away from you or Allison wasn’t paying attention was try to find a solution. Eventually, I did.”

Stiles sighs and stares down at their clasped hands, shaking his head because he will always hate the solution she found and everything she had to go through. 

He hates that this is their lives.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to keep you safe, you have to believe that.”

Meeting her watery gaze, he finds himself slowly nodding because he does believe that. He has to admit to himself that Lydia Martin risking her own safety for his somehow doesn’t seem as crazy as it would have not all that long ago.

“I’m also sorry that it took me so long.”

He furrows his brow at her. “Took you so long for what?”

“To get here,” she whispers, squeezing his hand and nuzzling into his side.

Stiles isn’t sure if she means coming to see him after their fight or something bigger, but he deicides it doesn’t matter either way because she’s there now. He tilts his head and presses his lips against her hair.

“I’m so tired, Stiles.”

He smiles sadly and rests his cheek against the top of her head. “Me too.”

His simple statement seems to bother her because she pulls back and looks up at him, her doleful green eyes moving carefully across his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” She reaches up and brushes her fingers affectionately across his cheek. “You went through so much and then had to spend too much time taking care of me when you should have been recovering…”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing when she gives him a pointed look. “I told you, Lyds, if you’re not okay then I’m not okay.”

She presses her lips together, eyes shining up at him for a long moment before she leans up and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth, slow and chaste.

His cheeks flush at the intensity behind the simple touch and he has to clear his throat against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him before he can speak again. “Think, uh, you might be able to get some sleep here? I have very comfortable pillows.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up at him. “How can I argue with that logic?”

He laughs softly at her, releasing his hold on her to help her under the covers before crawling in beside her.

She moves into him, biting her her lip to try to hide her slight wince as she does.

Of course Stiles notices. 

“What was that?” he all but demands, leaning up on his elbow and hovering over her. “I thought you said everything is fine.”

“It is. It’s just a little tender still. Melissa said it’s completely normal.”

He shakes his head because that’s not good enough and then he’s pulling back the covers again, his fingers reaching out and glancing the edge of her shirt where it sits on her hip, right under where he knows the cut from the other night is. His fingers hover against the fabric as he hesitates, looking to her for permission. “Can I…?”

Off her small nod he carefully pushes up her shirt enough to expose the white bandage taped to her side. Eyes shining, he doesn’t hesitate this time before his fingers carefully pull one of the sticky edges off her skin.

The cut is barely more than an inch long, a startling line of black threaded through her pale skin.

“Stiles?”

Fingers suddenly shaking, he presses the bandage back into place and then tenderly smoothes his palm over the soft, white gauze.

“This can’t keep happening,” he whispers, eyes finding hers in the dim light. “You can’t get hurt again, okay? You have to promise me.”

Her lips turn up fondly at him, her green eyes soft and watery. He knows her well enough to guess she’s about to tease him for being so overprotective to try to get him to lighten up because he’s getting too upset, but he’s never been more serious in his life.

“I mean it, Lydia. _Promise me._ ”

Her smile falters, eyes darting between his. Eventually she nods at his request before shifting closer, snuggling against him and letting her legs tangle with his.

“I promise,” she affirms and he can feel her voice humming against his chest, “as long you promise me you’ll stay safe, too.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes as he settles against his pillow. “I’m not the one-“

“You went in my head when you knew-“

“And I’d do it again-“

_“Stiles.”_

The way her voice breaks on his name is what makes him give in, trailing his hand from over her bandage to mold around her back and pull her close. “I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you.” She murmurs, pleased with his answer, before stifling a yawn against the front of his shirt.

“Get some sleep,” he gently commands, slowly starting to run his fingers across her back. It’s not long before her breathing evens out, her grasp on him easing in her sleep.

His own eyelids droop then, his mind and body finally giving into his own exhaustion now that Lydia’s sound asleep and safe here with him.

Lips against her the top of her head, Stiles sleepily hums _love you_ before finally drifting off.


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles and Lydia transition into being a couple so naturally that it happens without either of them noticing it.

At first they spend most of their time together curled up on one of their couches. Sometimes they’ll watch a movie Stiles is obsessed with and sometimes they’ll take turns reading out loud from a favorite book of Lydia’s. And every night without fail, Stiles sneaks out of his house and shows up at her front door in his pajamas, refusing to let her spend another night on her own.

When she finally is able to return to school again, something she is completely dreading, Lydia doesn’t have to ask Stiles if he will drive her. He just brings his clothes and backpack with him the night before and gets ready at her house in the morning. He rambles the whole ride over because he knows she’s nervous and then walks into the building holding her hand as if there was never even another option.

Lydia kisses Stiles’s cheek in the hallway outside her first class and his amber eyes turn so warm and bright as he reluctantly lets go of her hand as the bell rings.

Too smart to have to pay attention even after missing so much class time, she ends up scrawling notes to him in the journal that he gave her. The hour passes too slowly but she never runs out of things to write to him, filling pages upon pages by the time the bell rings out again. When she walks out of the classroom, he’s already there waiting for her with his hands shoved in his pockets and a grin curling his lips. She finds it’s impossible to calm her racing heart just at his presence as she passes him the journal.

In that moment, she thinks she might finally understand everything Allison said to her what seems like forever ago about what having a boyfriend and being in love is like.

It takes Stiles a few classes to have time to respond but he hands back the journal when he meets her at lunch and she safely tucks it away to read in her afternoon classes. 

She holds his hand as they sit with their friends but she doesn’t really listen to their conversation. She doesn’t think Stiles does either because he keeps sneaking looks at her and suppressing grins and she’s not sure why he seems so giddy.

“What’s gotten into you?” she finally asks, trying to be quiet for no logical reason since there are people at their table with supernatural hearing. “You can’t possibly be this happy to be at school of all places.”

Stiles opens his mouth to respond but doesn’t get a chance before Scott barks out a laugh from across the table, causing both of them to turn toward him incredulously, partially because they both kind of forgot for a second there were other people around.

“Are you kidding?” Scott asks, practically beaming at the two of them. “I’m surprised he’s even able to sit still now that the _amazing_ Lydia Martin is finally his girlfriend.”

Lydia just rolls her eyes at the comment before looking around the table for the first time. Kira is out right grinning, as are Danny and Ethan, while Allison is pressing her lips together to suppress a laugh, her eyes shining as she looks between the banshee and the human.

Her gaze finally returns to Stiles and she’s surprised to see him glaring at Scott, his cheeks turning adorably pink. It confuses her for a moment why he would be so annoyed or embarrassed but then it just hits her.

It’s the first time anyone has labeled their relationship and _obviously_ Stiles thinks defining it has the potential to scare her off.

Her immediate inclination is to scoff at him and scold him for even thinking such a thing, which he so obviously does, but she stops herself. She remembers how long he waited for her and how he’s been there for her through _everything_. 

So instead of lecturing him, she softens, pulling their linked hands further into her lap and wrapping her other hand around his as well. “Well, the _spectacular_ Stiles Stilinski is finally my boyfriend and you don’t see me grinning like an idiot upon my return to this horrid place.”

Except she most definitely is and she probably has been all day without even noticing it.

She can hear Allison finally let out the delighted laugh she’d been holding in and Scott let out a yell of excitement but she only has eyes for Stiles, who turns toward her sharply.

Eyes darting across her face and cheeks turning somehow redder, he studies her for a moment in absolute disbelief and tries to figure out if she actually said what he thinks she did.

This time she can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes even if her smile never wavers. “Come on, Stiles, I didn’t really think I needed to spell it out for you. You know you’re my boyfr-“

He cuts her off with a kiss, urgent and hard, right in the middle of the cafeteria.

A mix of laughing and scoffing fills the air around them, and maybe there is even a bit of a hush from the students at tables nearby, but none of it reaches them. Neither of them care about anything then except each other.

He pulls back grinning like an idiot, just like her.

“You know, people are trying to eat in here,” Danny teases and it shatters their moment, brings them back to reality.

Stiles snaps toward the opposite end of the table and scowls at the other human. “Are you sure you’re the one to be giving a lecture on the appropriateness of PDA there, Danny Boy?”

Danny chuckles and holds up his hands in defense.

Stiles doesn’t see the humor and keeps his glare pinned on him a moment longer before he turns back to Lydia to attack her with kisses, a little to spite Danny but mostly because he wants to and he can.

She dissolves into laughter as she admonishes him and it is so different from the old Lydia and so like the real Lydia, the one that is his girlfriend, that doesn’t pretend for anyone anymore, that it fills him with warmth. Soon he dissolves into laughter too, pressing his forehead into hers as the bell for their next class rings out.

A few hours later, Stiles pulls the jeep into Lydia’s driveway and clicks it in to park, her first day back to school over and done with. 

He’s supposed to just be dropping her off, she’s going to the Argents’ for dinner and he really should spend some time with Scott, but she doesn’t move to get out and he’s more than relieved that she doesn’t. Instead, she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns towards him, pulling her legs up so she can curl up in the seat.

He follows her lead and turns to her as well, watching as she reaches out and takes his hand to pull into her lap.

“So I’m your boyfriend, huh?”

A warm smile curls her lips and she rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, Stiles, you are definitely my boyfriend.” He’s looking at her with such intensity that it makes her heart race and she has to look away to collect herself. She shrugs before continuing, “Even though I’m not sure I like that term.”

He furrows his brow and eyes her curiously. “You don’t?”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t seem like it fits. You’re my boyfriend, yes, but it’s different. You’re more than that. I feel like that word doesn’t say enough about what you mean to me. It’s completely inadequate.”

She looks over at him and he’s watching her with this completely awed expression. It turns her shy, something only Stiles and his feelings are able to do to her, and has her shaking her head at herself and adding, “Maybe that doesn’t make sense but-“

“No. No, it makes sense,” he cuts in, barely above a whisper, and gives her a watery smile as he leans closer to her. “Getting to call you my girlfriend… God, Lydia, you have no idea how amazing that is to me. I wasn’t sure if we would ever really be here and I’m so beyond happy that we are.”

She smiles at that, her shyness fading as his words give her confidence.

“But you’re right. It’s not enough,” he agrees quietly, his voice trembling under the strength of his feelings. “I don’t think there is a word I could find that would even begin to encapsulate everything that you mean to me.”

She grins at him, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she thinks it’s going to burst.

“Yeah?” she breathes in disbelief, all breathy and soft as she looks up at him.

He smiles, his eyes tinged with something serious, and answers by leaning into her and capturing her lips in his.

She melts into him. Hands pressing against his shoulders, moving up his neck, and then tangling in his hair as she meets him kiss for kiss.

His lips move against hers hungrily before he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses from her lips, across her jaw, and then settles to work on her neck in the soft place below her ear that he’s quickly learning is her kryptonite.

“Stiles,” she whispers his name, fingers tight on the hair on the back of his neck. “Stiles, I- I have to go.”

“Then go,” he teases against her skin, kissing his way down her throat to her exposed collarbone.

Suddenly she tugs back on his hair and kisses him hard, teeth grazing his bottom lip before her tongues follows it’s path.

“I’ll see you later,” she promises in a rush and suddenly she’s out of the jeep and he’s watching her make her way up the driveway to her front door.

He reluctantly leaves once he’s sure she’s safely inside but he’s right back in the same spot just hours later, stepping out of the jeep in his blue plaid pajamas and black chucks.

“Hey,” she grins when she opens the door for him before he even gets a chance to knock, standing there in her pink pajamas with the shorts and the long sleeves.

“Hey yourself,” he greets on a laugh as she reaches out to take his hand and pulls him inside like he’s nowhere near as fast as he needs to be.

She leads him up to her room and they enter in to their familiar routine of Stiles kicking off his shoes and socks while Lydia turns off the lights. Then they crawl into bed and he fluffs his precious pillow, which he’s been keeping at her house for the past week, and she rolls her eyes at him like always.

She kisses him then but it’s different then it was earlier in his jeep. It always is when they’re alone in her bed, right before they go to sleep. Every move is careful and steady but feels somehow momentous as they move together on the middle of her bed. 

It’s something else though, too. Like there’s an invisible line that they’re not ready to cross yet and neither of them is really sure why. 

Lydia pulls away to bury her face against his neck and he hugs her tight, splaying his hands across her back.

“Is it insensitive if I admit that part of me hopes your mom keeps extending her trip indefinitely?”

She laughs, low and raspy against his skin, before she sits back and meets his gaze. “You might get your wish. She called earlier. Said she was going to stay a few more days yet. Apparently Christopher from New York has a yacht and wants to take her out on it for the weekend.”

“Wow, Christopher sounds impressive,” he snarks and furrows his brow. “How did your mom meet this guy anyway?”

“Online,” Lydia sighs with a roll of her eyes. “Apparently it’s not all creeps and cat fishing out there, there’s also Wall Street stockbrokers just waiting to be snatched up.”

“Sounds like a real fairytale.” he quips, shaking his head to himself and suddenly he’s thinking out loud before he can stop himself, “Totally worth leaving your daughter all by herself when she’s been out of the hospital for barely even a week.“

Her gaze drops in an instant, lips pressing together as she shrinks back into herself.

“Shit, Lyds, I’m _so_ sorry. God, that is _so_ not my place. I shouldn’t have said-“

“It’s fine, Stiles,” she quietly cuts in. “I mean, you’re right aren’t you?”

Mouthing dropping open, he’s at a total loss for words at the crestfallen look on her face.

“But she doesn’t know the full story,” she continues, getting a bit defensive. “Not like Scott’s mom or your father.”

“I know that.”

“She’s just trying to get things back to normal and this is normal for us. My mom goes off with her different boyfriends and my dad is totally M.I.A., allowing me to be independent and enjoy living my life on my own terms with a limitless credit card and the house all to myself.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

He shrugs. “Enjoy it.”

Thrown by the simple question, she finds herself rapidly blinking against the tears abruptly building in her eyes because no one’s ever asked her that. Everyone, including her parents, just assumes.

Swallowing roughly, she breathes out _Stiles_ like she doesn’t know what else to say and that’s enough of an answer for him. The corner of his lips turn up into a sad smile as he reaches out and cups her cheek. “You should tell her.”

With a shaky breath she moves forward, arms wrapping around him tight and face pressing against the warm skin on his neck.

“We’ll figure out something when she comes back,” she concludes once she’s collected herself, long moments passing while they simply hold each other. “If I can’t sneak you in here then I’ll come to your house.”

His smile turns warm at her words. “Really?”

“Definitely,” she assures him easily, before nudging him until he lays back on the bed. She curls up against his side once he’s settled, her head on his chest and arm strewn across his waist. “You’ve officially ruined me, Stilinski. I don’t think I could sleep without your skinny self in bed next to me anymore.”

He laughs lazily at that, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Then it’s all going according to plan.”

Lydia smiles and rolls her eyes, sighing in content as she closes her eyes.

He kisses her hair, already starting to drift off. “Night, Lyds.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the kudos!! Hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Everything that seemed so unattainable with Lydia during Stiles’s whole adolescent life somehow becomes normal after that. The note passing, the hand holding, the kissing…

“Ugh, you guys are so adorable it’s making me nauseous.”

Stiles blushes as he and Lydia reluctantly pull apart, running the back of his hand over his mouth to wipe off her lipstick before smirking over at Allison waiting a few feet away.

“Now you know how I felt around you and Sco- Ow! _Hey!_ ”

He glares down at Lydia as he rubs his side where she’d elbowed him and she’s glaring right back at him past a tight smile.

“ _Filter,_ Stiles.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You were going to-”

“I’ll just meet you guys in the cafeteria, okay?” Allison cuts in, her lips turning up in a miserable attempt at a smile.

Lydia turns back to her best friend and her eyes soften as she nods. “Sounds good. We’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

She waits until Allison makes her way down the hall and turns a corner before rounding on her boyfriend. “God, Stiles! You can’t just bring up _that relationship_ out of the blue in front of her like that.”

“Why not?” he asks defensively, completely confused. “Scott’s dating Kira, Allison’s over it-“

Lydia presses her lips together.

“She _is_ over it, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, her shoulders deflating as her irritation is replaced with concern. “She’s just sad, okay? Everything with Isaac is obviously really fresh but I think she misses Scott sometimes. Maybe a lot of the time, I don’t know. Just please try not to put your foot in your mouth.”

He nods softly, running his hand up and down her arm because the way her face pinches up when she’s worried is adorable. “I can do that.”

She raises a skeptical brow at him.

He rolls his eyes and rephrases his response, “I can try _really, really_ hard to do that.”

She can’t help it when she lets out a soft laugh, leaning up to kiss him. “You’re an idiot.”

“ _Your_ idiot,” he corrects against her lips, hands gripping her waist.

Her fingers tangle in the hair on back of his head and she gently tugs against it. _“Mine.”_

“God, Lyds…”

She pulls back abruptly when she remembers where they are, still in the middle of the hallway outside of her last class before lunch where he always waits for her. Distractedly she straightens the front of his shirt, looking up at him with flushed cheeks. “Where’s the journal?”

“I didn’t get a chance to write back. I couldn’t even read it yet with that calc midterm.”

Reaching up, she runs her thumb across his bottom lip to remove any last trace of her lipstick. “I told you I’d help you study.”

He snorts. “Yeah, like we’d actually get any studying done.”

“We would,” she asserts before thinking it over and adding, “if we went to the library or that bookstore cafe downtown. Someplace public.”

“We’re someplace public now.”

She grins sheepishly at that, rolling her eyes. “Point taken but we’re still going to at least try. Can’t have your grades slipping, can we?”

“Of course not, Miss Martin,” he teases, taking her hand and pulling her toward the cafeteria, “and why is that, exactly?”

She shrugs as she follows him. “Well, college applications-“

“Stiles?”

Both of them stop at his name echoing sharply through the emptying halls and when they turn back they find a familiar face quickly pushing through the few lingering students.

Stiles’s stomach drops. “Malia?”

The werecoyote grins and suddenly she’s standing right in front of him and her arms are wrapping around his neck, hugging him way too familiarly.

Lydia’s fingers untangle from his and his wide eyes stare helplessly at her over Malia’s shoulder, watching her gaze narrow at the two of them in the same way it does when she’s solving an equation.

He doesn’t think he breathes until Malia finally lets him go but then she remains standing too close and his internal freak out continues.

“What, um, what are you doing here?” he stutters out, casually shuffling his feet and taking a step closer to Lydia.

Malia shrugs. “It’s my first day.”

“Your first- _Oh._ You- You go here now?”

“I do,” she affirms, eyeing him strangely. “Are you okay? Do you have brain damage from when Oliver hit you?”

He shakes his head quickly, “No, I-“

“Because you were different after that and I wasn’t sure what happened. My shrink recommended I watch movies and TV shows to try to _assimilate_ and there is this thing I’ve noticed that happens a lot where the guy is really nice and understanding before they have sex-“

He gulps, gaze darting to Lydia just in time to see her eyes light with understanding.

“-but then he’s totally different afterwards and the girl is heartbroken. But you didn’t seem like that necessarily and I’m not heartbroken.”

“That’s- That’s _great,_ ” he mutters because he’s not sure what the hell else to say and way more concerned about what his girlfriend thinks of all of this. “Hey, uh, do you remember Lydia?”

The strawberry blonde offers a tight smile and her hand to the werecoyote. “Pleasure to see you again.”

“Lydia’s my girlfriend,” Stiles blurts as the two girls are shaking hands, both of them pausing at his words.

“Oh,” Malia breathes, frowning before her eyes turn apologetically toward Lydia. “A lot of guys cheat on TV and in movies, too.”

Stiles eyes practically bug out of his head as he frantically shakes his head. “No, no, _no._ I didn’t cheat! I would _never!_ No cheating at all. It was forever ago. At Eichen! And-“

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” Malia wonders aloud before turning her nose toward him curiously. “And you smell terrible by the way.”

“Oh my god.” Suddenly lightheaded with panic, Stiles bends over with his hands on his knees to stop himself from falling over. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t puke on my shoes,” Lydia warns even though she’s trying her hardest not to laugh as she begins to rub her hand across his back like she’s comforting a child. 

“As for you, sweetheart,” she hones in on Malia, “if you’re trying to assimilate yourself to society through television and movies, you should make an effort to watch more than just teen dramas and chick flicks if you don’t want to end up with a severely warped view on reality.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Lifting his head, Stiles scrunches his face up as he watches the two girls interacting so civilly.

“Maybe something wholesome and classic like _It’s a Wonderful Life_ would be appropriate?”

Stiles bursts into laughter before he can stop himself, his panic momentarily forgotten as he pushes himself back up and chuckles incredulously at his girlfriend. “You did not just tell her to watch _It’s a Wonderful Life._ ”

“Well what was I supposed to say? It’s moronic to think someone can absorb and understand societal norms just from watching them on screen in the first place,” she defends with a scowl before turning back to Malia. “I would find a new psychologist if I were you. You need to experience things to understand them. For instance, are you headed to lunch? Because you could sit with-“

“Scott,” Stiles suddenly cuts in and finishes for her, his voice still light with laughter. “You remember Scott, right? Big, ironically puppy doggish brown eyes? He’s in the cafeteria with whole a bunch of supernatural beings that will be very happy to see you. Lydia and I will be there in a few minutes.”

Malia gives them a confused look but turns and leaves them just the same, heading toward the far off murmur of students.

“Stiles?” Lydia turns to him curiously as soon as Malia turns into the next hall. “Is there a particular reason we’re not going to lunch too?”

“Shouldn’t we talk about what may or may not have happened between me and Malia?”

“I think it’s pretty clear what happened.”

His amber eyes roam across her face as he tries to read her before he quietly wonders, “You’re not jealous?”

Lydia shakes her head because she’s not _really_ jealous. She’s secure in her relationship with Stiles. But the second she shakes her head, his face falls and it instantly annoys her. 

“You can’t seriously be bothered that I’m not mad. We weren’t even dating then. I was seeing Aiden-”

“I know that.“ He shrugs and looks away. “It’s nothing. I’m being stupid.”

“Stiles…”

But he’s being pouty and for some reason she finds it adorable instead of infuriating, God help her. She reaches out and touches his cheek and his gaze hesitantly finds hers again. 

“It’s nothing. Really, Lyds.”

She shakes her head at him and runs her thumb across the apple of his cheek, sighing as the corner of her lips quirks up at him. “The reason I’m not jealous is because of us. We’re good together.”

A warm smile spreads across his lips at her words, his hands reaching out to hold her waist. “We’re _really_ good together.”

“We are,” she agrees, mirroring his grin. She hesitates as she gazes into his warm eyes before giving in and admitting more, her voice barely above a whisper, “These last few weeks, I- I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m going to be your first. Or I thought I was going to be your first, I guess.”

He swallows harshly, fingers digging against her sides. “You have been?”

Biting her lip, she can feel her cheeks flushing as she nods. “Maybe I’m a little disappointed that’s not the case. Maybe a little disappointed too that you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know how to. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“It doesn’t really,” she agrees softly as he pulls her closer. “It happened at Eichen? When the Nogitsune was still…”

Stiles nods against her hand, closing his eyes tight as he mumbles, “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s really not. Very few people have a fairytale first time.”

“You did,” he whispers, not meeting her eyes. “Your first boyfriend, when you were in love-“

Lydia shakes her head and is suddenly admitting things to him she’s never told anyone. “The summer before high school started, Danny and I snuck out one night and went to another high school’s party and drank way too much. There was this guy there…” she trails off with a tiny shrug, “I never saw him again.”

Stiles furrows his brow as he studies her. “I didn’t know…”

“It was a couple nights after my parents told me they were getting a divorce and everything seemed so awful. I just needed something. A distraction, you know?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, his voice rough because that’s exactly how it was with Malia. “Yeah, I know.”

She smiles sadly at him in understanding and then wraps her arms around his neck.

“Plus, I really didn’t want to die a virgin,” he admits, only partially joking in an attempt to lighten the tension, “and there was a real possibility of that happening.”

Lydia snorts and playfully shoves his shoulder. “You can be such a teenage boy sometimes.”

“I am a teenage boy,” he laughs and takes her hand as they start toward the cafeteria.

“Yes but it’s not always so horrifyingly apparent.”

———

Stiles’s next class after lunch is English and thankfully it’s a work day. He reasons that he’s supposed to be reading something anyway so he doesn’t hesitate to whip out Lydia’s journal and settle back in his desk chair with it.

The pages are running low and he’s almost all the way to the last few pages before he finds the newest one and he makes a mental note that he needs to get her a new one before they run out. 

He smirks to himself as he reads Lydia’s relentless teasing about him drooling in his sleep last night when he knows she does the same thing almost every night but he’s never had the heart to tell her. If she’s going to tease him for it though…

He turns the page to keep reading and goes absolutely still. 

A few more words trail off into unending lines of numbers. He flips to the next page and the one after that and it’s all the same. Each and every row filled with numbers before they abruptly switch right back into words for a few short sentences, followed by her signed name and a tiny, colored-in heart.

He’s scrambling out of his desk the second the bell rings, shoving through the students exiting the classroom and darting in and out of everyone meandering the hallways as he crosses as quickly as he can to the other end of the school.

“Lydia!”

She looks up from her locker with a surprised smile at his voice because she doesn’t usually get to see him after lunch again until the end of the day. It quickly fades when she realizes how absolutely panicked he is.

“What, Stiles? What is it?”

He all but shoves the journal into her hands as he pants to try to catch his breath.

Fingers trembling, she flips through the pages, eyes wide as they roam across what is clearly her own handwriting in lines upon lines of numbers that she doesn’t remember. “What the hell is this?”

“I don’t know.” He reaches out and touches her arm instinctively because he can tell she’s terrified. “I’m betting it means something important, though. Like how you drew the tree and it turned out to be the Nemeton.”

Her eyes snap up to his. “Did you show anyone?”

“No, I ran straight over here to find you the second I got out of class.”

Closing the book, she passes it back to him with an overwhelmed nod. “Yeah. Okay, well, we can go to the library after school-“

He quickly shakes his head. “We need to go now. Probably to Deaton first.”

“You’re right. Of course, we have to deal with this now,” she gives in with a sigh, slamming her locker shut and they both immediately start toward the exit, all thoughts of school completely left behind.

“Should we get Scott or Allison?”

Lydia shakes her head. “We can handle this, can’t we? We are the brains of this operation.”

He smirks and holds the door open for her before following her into the bright, midday sunlight. “Yeah, we’ve got this.”

———

They definitely don’t have this.

They’re sitting on the floor against his bed, staring up at his wall where a single sheet of paper is tacked to the middle of it.

About twenty numbers, the ones Lydia had repeated over and over again without realizing it, copied in bright red sharpie in Stiles’s messy handwriting on an otherwise blank sheet of paper.

That’s all they’ve got.

After seeing Deaton. After spending hours at the library. After a million different internet searches.

It’s still all they’ve got.

“Is it bedtime yet?” Stiles mumbles, letting his head fall sideways to lean against her shoulder. It’s an awkward angle because of how low her shoulder is so he ends up curling into her side, throwing his leg over hers where she has them out in front of her on the floor.

“Stiles-“

“It’s one in the morning-“

“It’s two, actually.”

He groans loudly and nuzzles his face against her. “We’re not going to solve it now, Lyds. We’re too tired to think.”

“ _You’re_ too tired,” she corrects, rolling her eyes at him even as she brushes his hair off his forehead. “I told you to go to bed hours ago.”

“And I said _not without you,_ ” he retorts before pausing to let out a huge yawn. “I’m a man of my word.”

“Oh you are, huh?”

“I am,” he mumbles and wraps his arm around her waist. “I’ll sleep here if I have to. Don’t test me.”

“Then go to sleep, Stiles. I can’t yet.”

“Okay,” he breathes, eyes drifting shut almost immediately. He’s not sure how long he actually sleeps but it feels like only minutes pass before he’s being shaken awake once again.

“Stiles?”

Slowly blinking, he opens his eyes to see Lydia hovering over him, a huge grin on her face.

His brow furrows as he realizes he’s curled up on the floor, a blanket carefully tucked around him. “How’d I get down here?”

“Stiles, I figured it out! I know what it is!”

“What?” he mutters and rubs his eyes before her words sink in. “You do?”

“I do,” she confirms with pride as she pulls his laptop down to the floor in front of him. “It’s a longitude and a latitude.”

He pushes himself up to sit and squints at the map she has pulled up on the screen, becoming more and more alert as he takes it in. “That’s only, like, twenty miles outside of town.”

“I know,” she agrees, clicking open another screen to show him. “It’s on a tulleric current too.”

“Shit,” he mutters, stomach sinking. He looks closer at the information, his eyes catching on the entered longitude and latitude on the page and furrows his brow. “Wait, that’s not all of the numbers. What about the rest of them?”

“It’s a date, Stiles, and an exact time down to the minute.”

“For when?”

“Next Saturday morning. Probably almost exactly the time the sunrise will start.”

“Well, that’s okay isn’t it?” he tries to off optimistically. “At least we have a little bit of time to figure things out.”

“It’s the night of a full moon, too.”

“Of course it is,” he sighs, eyes falling back to the map. He chews his lip as he racks his brain for a plan before glancing back at Lydia to see her doing the exact same thing. What she’s been doing for hours now while he couldn’t stop complaining and then slept.

He reaches out and wraps his arm around her shoulders before pulling her close so he can press a kiss against her temple. “Good job.”

Her eyes dart to his sharply and for a split second he’s sure she’s going to cry before her lips turn up into a bright smile. 

She clears her throat and shrugs sheepishly at him. “You want to go check it out?”

He nods and closes his laptop. “I’ll drive.”

———

Lydia guides them there with the GPS on her phone and by the time they pull over on the side of the highway with their taillights blinking, the first tendrils of sunlight are starting to break over the horizon. 

Lydia steps out of the passenger side and stands on the edge of the wide, barren plane of land. Stiles rounds the Jeep to her side, taking her hand and gripping it tight as they look out across the distance.

“It’s about 300 yards ahead.”

He nods but neither of them move any closer toward the point.

“Stiles, someone’s going to die there.”

“Only if we don’t stop it,” he quickly assures her, moving closer to her at the slight quiver in her voice. “We have enough warning though because of you. This is why you wanted to be a banshee again, remember?”

“It is,” she agrees, choking back anxious tears as she nods. “You’re right. This is why.”

He squeezes her hand. “Do you have any feeling about who it could be?”

She takes a trembling breath, closing her eyes tight to try to hear something. It’s completely quiet though, no voices calling out to her, only the sounds of far off cars on nearby roads.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I don’t know who.”

“That’s okay,” he tries to soothe her, cupping her cheek with his hand. “With all that you figured out, we have enough that we can be prepared. We’ll warn the whole pack, okay? We’ll come up with a plan.”

Nodding shakily, Lydia is suddenly overwhelmed with helplessness because all the pieces they have aren’t enough.

“Hey, hey,” he breathes, rushing to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close. “It’s going to be okay.”

She clings to him, burrowing into his arms. “I hope so.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Are sure this is the right spot?”

Stiles nods, hands digging into his pockets as he stands with his best friend in the middle of the open field. “This is it.”

Kneeling the ground, Scott presses his palm against the dirt and closes his eyes tight to focus.

“Still nothing?”

Sighing, Scott shakes his head. “Nope. No scent. No footprints. No… _anything_.” Pushing himself back up to his feet, he brushes his knees off and looks skeptically at the human. “You’re sure this is what the numbers Lydia wrote meant?”

“I’m sure. Lydia is sure.”

The alpha nods resolutely, looks around the area with his eyes shining red. “Then I think we’ll just have to be here at that time.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Stiles asks hesitantly. “There will be a full moon that night and without Isaac, it’ll just be you and Derek as far as werewolves go. Maybe the twins-“

“I’ll be fine,” Scott cuts him off confidently. “It could mean that someone is in danger that can’t fight at all. Someone that doesn’t have a warning.”

Giving in, the human sighs to himself and nods in silent acceptance of the plan.

“I’m going to see Kira tonight, I’ll fill her in then. I’ll let Derek and the twins know, too.”

“Lydia is with Allison right now, so I’m sure she already knows,” Stiles adds. “I think that’s everyone.”

Scott smiles sadly, slowly starting to make his way back toward the highway. “The pack feels like it keeps getting smaller.”

Following close behind, Stiles pats his best friend on the back. “We’ll make sure we don’t lose anyone else.”

———

Flipping the gear as he drives up the dirt road, Stiles makes the final turn up to the overlook and the girls come finally into sight. 

Pulling up and parking next to Allison’s black car, he furrows his brow at the sight of his girlfriend grinning at him with a bow clutched in her hands while her best friend hovers nearby.

“We’re almost finished,” Lydia calls across the way to him when he jumps out of the Jeep. 

He’s about to yell back and ask what is going on but she turns away before he gets the chance. Then she squares her feet up and knocks an arrow on the bow before lifting it and pulling it back with Allison’s help.

_Bow and arrow lessons_ he realizes as he lazily climbs up on the hood of his jeep, lounging back against the windshield to watch. Really, he knows he should have realized what was going on the second she insisted on braiding her hair to one side and wearing her tall brown boots like Katniss frickin’ Everdeen to hang out with Allison.

The bow snaps and the arrow zips through the air, hitting the tree just a few inches off target.

He erupts into applause that echoes through the preserve, making Lydia roll her eyes and flip him off. 

Allison chuckles and rolls her eyes before making her way toward Stiles as Lydia begins collecting arrows. “You and Scott find anything?”

Stiles shakes his head, his face falling. “There was nothing there at all. Not even a footprint. He’s going to talk to the rest of the pack though, let them know what’s going on.”

“Good,” the huntress agrees. “I’ll let my dad know about it, too.”

Nodding, he hesitates before continuing. “Scott thinks we should go there at that time, no matter what.”

“Of course we should,” Lydia seconds, determined, as she walks up with Allison’s bow and a quiver full of arrows. “Someone is going to die if we don’t stop it. We have to be there.”

Both of the humans fall silent, exchanging looks full of something like pride over the banshee’s transformation.

“We will be,” Stiles assures her, eyes warm when then they focus on Lydia.

Allison flashes her best friend a soft smile and takes her bow and arrows back. “You want to have another lesson tomorrow still?”

“Yes, that’d be great.” Lydia pulls Allison into tight hug. “Thank you again for doing this.”

“Of course, I’m glad you asked.” Pulling back she gives Stiles a short wave before getting into her car. “See you guys.”

They wave at her as she pulls out and as soon as she’s out of sight, Stiles moves to get down from the hood.

“Wait, stay there.”

He furrows his brow curiously before Lydia steps one of her boot clad feet on the side of his jeep and hoists herself up next to him.

“Hi,” she smiles down at him when she finds herself suddenly just inches away.

He grins and murmurs a quick hi back as he wraps his arm around her. “You didn’t tell me you were doing this.”

She shrugs as she curls against side. “I didn’t want you to worry. It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is,” he disagrees softly, “but I think it’s a good.”

She peeks up at him. “You do?”

“I do. Anything that will help keep you safe, I’m a thousand percent behind.”

She nods against him and nuzzles her cheek against his chest, her fingers idling across the front of his t-shirt. “You know, maybe you could have your dad teach your how to shoot.”

Stiles pauses, caught off guard and instantly growing anxious at the suggestion. Quickly he tries to play it off, nervously joking, “I don’t know. Me with a gun sounds like a bad idea.”

“Not after you’ve had a few lessons,” she tries to assure him, her words careful and soft. “I’d even go with too if you want.”

Stiles narrows his gaze over at her curiously. “What’s with the sudden weapon fetish?”

“I just think it’s a good idea, that’s all. We can’t protect ourselves like everyone else can. We can’t really protect ourselves at all.”

Sighing, Stiles knows she’s right even if he really wishes it weren’t the case. “No claws or fangs does put us at a serious disadvantage around here.”

“It does.” Lydia sits up enough that she can lean on her elbow and look down at him, watching his amber eyes practically glowing under the sunset. “I just really need you to be safe.”

Stiles takes a shaky breath, the sudden intensity behind her words hitting him hard as he stares up at her.

“If anything ever happened to you…” she trails off and then her eyes are shining, like the thought alone is enough to crush her.

“Hey,” he whispers gently to comfort her as he reaches up and sinks his fingers into her hair.

“I love you.”

Stiles’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes widen as they dart between her eyes in awe. “Lydia…”

A shy smile curls her lips as she reaches out to press her palm against his chest and he knows she has to feel how hard his heart is suddenly pounding.

“I love you, too,” he bursts when it all sinks in; this moment with this girl he’s always felt connected to. The two of them _together_. All of the things he always wanted somehow real now. “I love you more than I could ever even begin to tell you. You know that, right?”

Nodding softly, her eyes are wet when she lowers down and kisses him. There’s no hesitation then. No more holding back. Within seconds Lydia’s body is pressing over his, her hands braced against the windshield behind him and her lips always moving and searching out more.

Stiles’s hands move everywhere, exploring her and holding her. They bunch in the fabric of her skirt and slide up the back of her blouse, always pulling her closer. He finally wraps his long fingers around her hips and she suddenly shifts them against his. 

It’s too much.

Urgently he swaps their positions, hand behind her head as he settles her back against the plexiglass until he’s leaning over her.

“Stiles,” she practically groans when he kisses across her jaw and onto her throat, her thigh hitching up almost automatically around his leg. “Stiles, wait.”

Instantly he stops, panting hard against the skin of her neck. “Right. Right, sorry.”

He pulls back enough to look down at her and every part of him is thrumming at the sight of her. Green eyes wide and pupils blown, lips full and swollen with her lipstick wearing away, her messy hair barely held in it’s braid and spread out around her.

“Don’t be sorry,” she whispers huskily, a hazy smile on her lips. “Just…”

She presses gently against his shoulders then and he leans back, eyes following her every movement as she slides out from under him and off the Jeep to the ground.

Smirking when she turns back to him, she reaches up for his hand. “Come on.”

Curiously he intertwines his fingers with hers and then slides off the hood next to her.

For a moment she just stands there, eyes moving back and forth between his with so many emotions. But then she pulls his hand to her lips, kisses his knuckles, and walks a few short steps and tugs him along with.

“Where are we-”

She opens the door to Jeep, eyes darting to his once again before she lets him go and crawls inside, over the front seat, and into the back.

What’s about to happen sinks in and suddenly Stiles is scrambling in after her, all flailing limbs and sweaty palms. He fumbles his way in to the seat next to her and he’s immediately blushing at his complete inability to play it even remotely cool.

Lydia laughs, soft and warm, and presses her fingers against his chest when he turns to look at her.

“Lyds…”

The laughter in her eyes turns serious once they’re huddled up together so close in the small space. Her hand on his chest slides across his t-shit and under the open plaid he’s wearing over it, pushing it off his shoulders.

He swallows roughly and throws the fabric across the car; does the same with his t-shirt after she tugs at the hem of it.

Her nails trail across his newly bare skin, eyes flashing to his before she leans forward and presses her lips over his heart.

“God, Lyds,” he groans, fingers darting out to touch her, sliding under her shirt and digging against her skin.

Kissing her way across his skin and up his throat, her nails bite into his side when she reaches his ear. “Take it off me.”

Stiles doesn’t have to be told twice before he pulls back and starts fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. It’s unnaturally difficult and takes what feels like an excruciating amount of time because he’s shaking so badly. By the time he reaches the last button, he’s mumbling a long string of apologies.

“Stiles,” Lydia whispers, hands closing gently over his before he pushes her shirt off her shoulders. “Stiles, you don’t have to be so nervous. It’s just me.”

He wants to scoff because that might be the most ridiculous thing she’s ever said in her life. But he’s not nervous, not really, _because_ it’s her. It’s them. There’s been weeks leading up to this. Weeks where they’ve slept in the same bed nearly every night, ate meals together, watched pointless movies and read together. He’s more comfortable, calm, and happy around her than he thinks he’s ever been in his life with anyone. 

So, no, Stiles is not nervous to do this with her. He’s overwhelmed that he gets to.

Leaning into her, he kisses her firmly to show her he’s steady and sure.

Lydia sinks into it and soon her hands release their hold on his, letting him resume their work.

His fingers are still a little shaky as they take off her shirt but his touch is always even and strong.

The rest of their clothes start to melt away, a mess of fabric piling around them in the Jeep.

“So beautiful…” Stiles worships each new expanse of skin as it’s revealed to him, kissing it as he memorizes it. “You’re so beautiful, Lydia. I want you so much. I always want you.” Making his way from her delicate ankle to corner of her jaw, he makes sure she know how much he adores every inch of her.

Then he’s hovering over her in the cramped space of the back seat, nothing but the thin material of their very last items of clothing between them.

He gazes down at her and a dazedly happy smile curls his lips. “I love you,” he whispers, nose grazing hers.

She reaches up and runs her finger through his hair and Stiles notices her hand is the one shaking now. She blinks and a tear slips from the corner of her eyes and disappears back into the halo of her hair.

“You’re crying,” he breathes in fascination, shifting his weight to one arm so he can wipe away any trace of it.

She shrugs a shoulder and he swears her eyes have never seemed warmer than they do right then. Carefully she takes his hand from where it’s cupping her cheek and brings it to lay over her bare chest, holding it over her heart.

He swallows roughly, completely overwhelmed at the feeling of her heart pounding rapidly in her chest.

“Maybe I’m nervous,” she admits in a whisper, a small smile curling the corner of her mouth.

“Lydia-“

“Touch me, Stiles.”

So he does, removing the last piece of fabric separating him from her and worshiping the newly exposed skin with the same reverence he had the rest of her body.

“Stiles,” she breathes shakily, grasping at his hair. “ _More._ Stiles, I need-”

He quickly nods and moves up her body, shimmying off his boxers when she pushes at the waistband impatiently.

Her hands reach up and cup his cheeks once he’s hovering over her again, her eyes meeting his fiercely. “I love you,” she whispers, her eyes shining. “I love you. I love you. _I love you._ ”

It hits Stiles where exactly they are once they’re curled up in the afterglow; that Lydia’s heart stopped in his arms in the very same spot in the backseat of his jeep.

He tightens his arms around her waist as she leans back against his chest in his lap, buries his lips against her messy hair.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

She turns and nuzzles against his bicep, her fingers tracing his forearm as she hesitates, breathing him in.

“Lyds?”

Her bottom lip trembles against his skin. “Please ask your dad to teach you how to shoot.”

He closes his eyes at how small and urgent her voice is and for the millionth time since his best friend was bitten, Stiles wishes the supernatural world was where he’d always thought it was, tucked away in science-fiction.

_“Please.”_

Swallowing a sigh, Stiles gives in with a small nod because he knows he needs to be able to protect them. He has to be able to keep her safe. “Okay.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this story but I finally got a little bit ahead on it. Please let me know if you're interested in me continuing this. There would be two chapters left after this one, potentially three. Hope you enjoy!

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

Stiles gives a resigned nod, swallowing back the nerves he can feel swirling in his gut. “Yeah, I’m sure. I need to.”

The sheriff sighs, his tried eyes mournful yet understanding, wishing so badly this wasn’t his son’s life. Pulling his gun from it’s holster on his hip, he steps to Stiles’s side and helps slip the weapon into his hand and fit his fingers around it correctly.

Slowly and carefully, his father goes over the basics with him and then goes through all of it once again just incase. Stiles’s brow furrows and his tongue darts across his lips as he focuses in and tries to memorize all of it.

“You think you got it?”

“I think so.” Stiles nods, gripping the weapon more securely. “Is that it?”

“As much as you need to know before giving it a try,” the sheriff says, turning and nodding his head toward the far side of the room. 

Stiles’s eyes follow his father’s gaze to where the target waits, a simple outline of a body hanging fifty feet away. Instantly he feels shaky, suddenly overwhelmed at the reality of why he’s doing this. He’s learning to shoot a gun so he can shoot a person; so that if he ever has to, he can kill someone.

With a rough, tremulous breath, Stiles turns and looks over his shoulder, gaze instantly locking with Lydia’s where she watches on from the other side of the thick window into the shooting range. Her green eyes are full, the corner of her lips turning up at him sadly as she nods at him in understanding. 

The sight of her centers him. After all, he’s doing this for her; so he’s able to protect her and to protect himself so he can stay with her _always_. His mind clears and he turns back to the target with renewed focus.

Lifting the gun, he aims it at the target and lets out a slow breath as he pulls the trigger.

The power of the weapon exploding in his hand reverberates through his whole body and the bang that rings out nearly deafens him. His gaze never leaves the target though and he sees it slice through the outline of the body, hitting the target right in the heart.

His stomach churns violently and suddenly he’s swallowing back bile. Carefully he sets the gun down and steps back, his shaking hands going to his hips as he tries to keep his breathing even.

Dazedly, Stiles feels his father’s hand clasp around his shoulder and he lifts his gaze to find the mournfully knowing look in his eyes. “I think if it ever comes down to it, Stiles, you’ll be able to do what you need to do. That’s why we’re doing this.”

He nods but he still feels sick at it all. He never wanted this to be his life. He doesn’t want to have to do this ever.

Fingers wrap gently around his wrist as Lydia suddenly appears at his side. She pulls his hand into her grasp and sandwiches it between both of hers, her green eyes tracing his features with concern.

Instantly he breathes a little easier.

“I think that’s good for today,” the sheriff offers, placing his gun securely back in his holster. “Maybe we should go get some dinner?”

“That sounds great,” Lydia agrees, squeezin Stiles hand to help ease his nerves. “Don’t you think, Stiles?”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

He follows along when Lydia gently tugs him toward the exit, looking back at the target one last time, haunted by the crisp tear in the heart.

 

———

 

Stiles heads to the preserve late the next afternoon as the sun hangs low in the sky. Pulling up to the overlook, he expects to find Allison and Lydia in the midst of another archery lesson but smiles to himself he finds them lazing in the grass instead, talking quietly on the forrest floor while a dozen arrows stick out of the center of a nearby tree.

He hops out of the Jeep and walks up to them, teasing as he approaches, “Out of everybody, I never thought you two would be the ones slacking on the job.”

“We’re not slacking.”

“Yeah, we had to take a break,” Lydia adds on to Allison’s defense, playfully pouting at her boyfriend, “My fingers are sore.”

“Well we can’t have that,” Stiles declares as he settles on the grass next to her. Quickly he swipes up her hand, kissing her two fingers where he sees the red mark from the bow across her skin.

Allison grins and shakes her head fondly at the couple. “How do you guys keep getting cuter?”

“Not in a nauseating way anymore?”

The huntress roles her eyes at him. “It’s becoming more palatable.”

“Are Scott and Kira coming still coming?”

Stiles nods at his girlfriend. “They should be here any minute.”

As if on cue they hear the hum of Scott’s motorbike in the distance, getting steadily louder until he rides into clearing with Kira on the back of his bike.

“Hey guys,” Scott greets the three of them, his eyes lingering on Allison. Then Kira steps up to his side and slips her fingers into his and the alpha snaps out of it, looking away as he and his girlfriend settle on the ground.

Lydia doesn’t miss the way Allison’s features drop before she can hide her emotions away, sending her best friend a sad smile in support.

“So did anybody come up with a better plan?”

Stiles sighs and shakes his head while Lydia shrugs. “I don’t think there is a better plan than what we already have. Not without more information.”

“And you haven’t written anything else? No new banshee feelings?”

Lydia shakes her head, looking defeated. “Nothing.”

Stiles squeezes her hand. “What do you feel now?”

“I feel… dread,” she admits, “but I’m not sure if it’s because something actually is going to happen or because I’m so worried about what could.”

“That’s okay,” Scott quickly assures her. “We have something, that’s all that matters. We’ll be prepared for anything.”

“I had my dad get a new bow for Lydia,” Allison speaks up. “It should be here tomorrow.”

“And my dad gave me a gun this morning,” Stiles adds in. “I have it in the glove compartment.”

“Then we’ll be ready.” Scott nods, looking solemnly around his pack. “We’ll meet there tomorrow morning, an hour before dawn, just like we planned. Alright?”

Everyone agrees, quietly affirming their commitment to the vague plan.

“We’ve got this you guys,” Scott assures them, his gaze steady as he looks around the group. “Together, we’re strong enough to beat anything out there. I’m sure of it.”

 

———

 

Lydia curls her fingers over Stiles’s wrist while he works the stick shift, a sense of foreboding leaving both of them on edge.

“Did you tell your dad anything?”

Stiles chews his lip and shakes his head. “With all the stuff with the gun, I didn’t want to worry him any more if I didn’t have to. He’s on the night shift tonight, so if we need to we can call him.”

Lydia nods and lets out a heavy breath.

“You okay?”

She shrugs in defeat. “I just wish I could do something more. I should be able to figure out what’s going to happen.”

“You’re not psychic, Lyds. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

She presses her lips together and drops her gaze, falling silent.

“Hey, come on. It’ll be okay. I promise, we’ll be safe.”

“You don’t know that-“

“I do, though. Because Scott is right, this pack is strong enough to get through anything… And you and me? We’re smart enough to figure out anything that comes our way.”

She sighs and looks over at him, a sad smile curling her lips. “I hope you’re right.”

They pull up to the Martin house and both of them pause at the sight of the other car sitting in the driveway.

“Is that-“

“Yep. My mother’s car,” Rolling her eyes in frustration, her shoulders sink as she realizes their planned night of quiet preparation followed by a futile attempt at a few hours of sleep wrapped up together is now out the window. “God, _of course_ she would come back tonight of all nights.”

“Everyone in this town does seem to have impeccable timing,” Stiles retorts with a sigh of his own before intertwining his fingers with hers. “It’s fine. We’ll just adjust the plan a bit.”

“I don’t want to adjust the plan. I want you with me,” she insists, green eyes growing wet as the sense of dread that’s been haunting her these last few days suddenly becomes overwhelming.

“And I will be, I swear. I’ll just— I’ll sneak in, okay? A few hours before we’re supposed to meet everyone, when we’re sure you’re mom is asleep, I’ll sneak in.”

Lydia bites her lip and considers his words but it doesn’t feel like enough. “You’re not going to leave now though, right? You can have dinner with us if you want. My mom won’t kick you for hours still.”

The corner of Stiles mouth tugs up at her. “Of course, Lyds. I’m almost offended you thought you needed to ask.”

“Well, I didn’t want to assume you were up for having dinner with my mother for the first time out of the blue.”

“Are you kidding me? I’d love to have dinner with you and your mom, Lyds. I mean as long as your okay with it.”

“You’re my boyfriend, Stiles. Of course I’m okay with it. I’m almost offended that you have to ask,” she teases with a smirk, throwing his words right back at him as she leans in and kisses him. “Come on.”

Stiles grins at her, hopping out of the Jeep and quickly rounding it to swipe up her hand as she gets out herself.

“One o’clock,” he says as he intertwines their fingers together. “Incase we don’t get a chance to talk alone before I have to leave, just wanted to say that I’ll be back at one.”

“Good. Text me when you’re here and I’ll let you in.”

He nods, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

———

 

Jolting awake, Lydia takes in her surroundings with bleary eyes, vaguely remembering falling watching TV with Stiles, which would explain why she’s curled up on the living room couch with a blanket carefully tucked around her that she knows was put there by her boyfriend.

Her phone vibrates on the coffee table and she realizes that must be what woke her up in the first place. She knows it must be a message from Stiles, probably sent from her front porch asking to be let in, but when her gaze catches on the digital clock on the cable box, her stomach drops at the time flashing at her. 

2:48 AM.

Heart suddenly pounding, Lydia swipes up her cell phone, swallowing back panic when she sees a notification of a new voicemail from Stiles’s number waiting on her screen.

“Please, please, _please_ be okay…” she mutters as she unlocks her phone and cues up the message, feeling like her worst fears are all about to come true.

“Hi Lydia, it’s Noah Stilinski, Stiles’s dad. Sorry to call so late but I wanted to check if he’s over there with you? He’s not in trouble if he is, I promise, it’s just that I stopped home during my patrol and he’s not here, which isn’t unusual, but the Jeep is still in the driveway and he left behind his cell phone and… I just really need to know where he is. Please call me back…”

Her knuckles are white as she clutches the phone, slowly pulling it from her ear when the message fades out.

It’s _Stiles_. 

The realization hits her so hard it knocks the air from her lungs and leaves her shattered.

Stiles is the one in danger, the one who all those numbers were trying to help her save. It’s why she was suddenly so scared he wouldn’t be able to protect himself, why she was so insistent he learn how to shoot a gun. It’s so clear to her in that moment she hates herself for not putting it all together sooner.

In a burst of frantic energy she scrambles off the couch, hitting the call button on her phone as she hurries through the house, barely pausing to swipe up her keys before she’s out the door and bounding to her car.

“Sheriff? I’m so sorry but Stiles— He’s not with me.” She revs up the engine and peels out of the driveway, squaring her shoulders as she speeds down the street. “I know where we can find him though.”


	17. Chapter 17

Lydia veers her car off into the ditch on the side of the highway, remembering exactly the right spot from when they’d gone to investigate it a week ago. Scrambling out of her car, she hurriedly pulls the bow and arrows Allison’s father had gotten her from the backseat and takes off running as she throws the quiver over her shoulder.

There’s a shadowy figure off in the distance and she heads straight for it, pounding her feet against the worn grass. She’s nearly reached it when suddenly there’s someone right next to her, running along with her in stride. She doesn’t have to look to know it’s Scott, he was her second call on the way over and she knows their alpha took off sprinting toward this place before he’d even hung up the phone.

They stumble to a stop when they’re close enough to make out the person standing there in the moonlight hovering over Stiles’s laying still on the ground.

“ _Kate?_ What- What the-“ Scott stutters in disbelief, gaping at the woman who is supposed to be dead.

Kate for her part seems almost as surprised, apparently not expecting to have been found, and suddenly she’s baring fangs, growling as she leers at them.

Scott jumps back, clearly still too caught off guard to respond, but Lydia can’t take her eyes off of Stiles with a smattering of blood near his hairline and his lashes still against his cheeks. She can feel her body trembling, tears welling in her eyes, but she refuses to be weak. Gritting her teeth, she reaches over her shoulder and pulls out an arrow, knocking it and aiming it straight at Kate’s heart.

The werewolf doesn’t miss this, laughing to herself as she raises a brow in interest. “Things have certainly changed around here, huh? Last time I saw you, sweetie, you would have cowered at the sight of a spider.”

Lydia glares at her and tries to stop her fingers from shaking. “Let him go.”

Tapping her chin, Kate looks up and pretends to contemplate her decision before simply shaking her head. “No.”

Lydia pulls the bow tighter, ready to let if fly, as Scott growls threateningly at her side.

Kate scoffs. “You know, I’ve had a lot of time to figure out the circumstances of my near death. To retrace the steps of how I became this,” she explains with absolute disgust as she brandishes her claws. “And all of it leads back to this pack. _Your_ pack, Scott. You and poor little Stiles. He’s the one who made sure the sheriff found out I burned down that house down. He’s the one who turned my brother against me.”

She lowers her foot on to Stiles’s chest, bearing down until he lets out a soft whimper, his body shifting at the contact.

“It was all him. Now I’m going to use him to fix what he helped do to me.”

Lydia doesn’t even think before she lets her arrow fly, but she’s shaky and it falls off track, hitting Kate in the arm instead of the chest.

The werewolf laughs as she pulls it out, tossing it aside like it’s nothing.

Lydia is already restringing another arrow while Scott lets out his claws, red eyes glowing as he bares his teeth and advances on her.

“Really, Scott? Is that the best you’ve got?”

Suddenly another arrow cuts through the air from behind them and neither Scott nor Lydia have to look to know Allison has arrived, especially when the tip buries itself in Kate’s stomach.

“Leave him alone, Kate,” the huntress calls out as she approaches, firing another arrow just as Kate has pulled out the first.

Eyes burning bright blue and nostrils flaring, she pulls out the bloody arrow and snarls at them all. “Don’t push me or I’ll take you all out, I swear.”

Lydia lets go another shot, this time landing it deep in the woman’s thigh.

Kate howls, fully turning, leaving her with a blue face, spots, and blazing blue eyes as she bellows out, “Get them!” 

Scott, Lydia, and Allison all share anxious glances, before the alpha notices the movement at the far off tree line. The girls follow his widening gaze to see three giant, hulking figures emerge, bounding across the field towards them like living nightmares with skulls on their heads and razor-sharp spikes stabbing from their arms.

Stumbling back, Lydia can hear the voices starting to murmur in the back of her mind just as she notices the sharp sound of a siren approaching. Looking over her shoulder, she’s only slightly relieved to see the Sheriff speeding to a stop on the side of the highway, Derek and Argent along with him, because she knows no one is prepared for this battle. No one expected this was going to be their fight.

Lydia turns back and her eyes frantically search out Stiles, taking a shaky breath when she sees him still there unconscious on the ground. All she wants to do is get to him, but now there are monstrous creatures between them and a were-something that is her best friend’s once-dead-aunt and she feels frozen in her helplessness.

One of the skulled creatures stops in front of her and swipes out at her and she squeezes her eyes shut to prepare for the blow she knows is coming. It never does. Peaking out of one eye, she finds Scott right in front of her, protecting her and absorbing the hit before lashing out with his claws in a fury.

Gun fire rings out, echoing through the air and the harsh noise makes her flinch as the voices grow even louder.

She forces herself to pull out another arrow and string it, wanting to help and refusing to be weak, but she can’t focus on where to shoot, all she can focus on is that she needs to get to Stiles.

Mindlessly, she shoots her arrow at one of the creatures, shuffling her way around the angry thing as she strings another and then another, letting them fly as she moves closer and closer to Stiles.

Finally she’s far enough around that she has an opening to run so she takes it, sprinting toward the spot that Stiles had been stuck under Kate’s careful watch. Except he’s not there any more once she reaches it and her eyes desperately dart around until she finds the two of them further away, at the exact location Lydia had predicted. It seems like Kate is positioning Stiles’s body carefully, her gaze constantly flitting to the horizon as the first hints of the approaching dawn start to alter the color of the skin.

Lydia knows a ritual when she sees one and though she has no idea what Kate is trying to do, she know she has to stop it.

Desperately she reaches over her shoulder for an arrow but finds herself grasping nothing but empty air. She looks frantically toward the her pack, knows she needs help, but everyone else is locked into battle. It leaves her with only one choice, gathering all her courage and determination before she runs straight at Kate, barreling into the woman in an attempt to knock her over.

Kate barely sways on her feet before reaching out a clawed hand and slamming the redhead to the ground like nothing.

All the air rushes from her lungs and for a moment she can’t breathe, her mouth opening and closing rapidly as she whimpers and gasps for air. 

A few feet away, Stiles suddenly stirs and rubs at his eyes as if waking up from a nap. “Lydia?”

Kate lets out a roaring laugh at the whispered name, her eyes moving back and forth between the teenagers before she focuses in on the banshee with a twisted grin. “I thought that was love I smelled on you,” she teases, yanking the girl to her feet by the front of her shirt and shoving her harshly further away. “You poor thing. At least you’ll be here for the end.”

Breathing heavily, Lydia shakes her head helpless to herself as she sways on her feet.

The voices are deafening now. She can’t hear anything but them anymore, just the chaotic mess of screams inside her head.

Numbly she stumbles foreward, never taking her eyes from the scene in front of her as her whole body begins to tremble.

She’s going to kill him.

Kate’s mouth starts moving and even though Lydia can’t hear what she’s saying, she knows what it means, especially when she pulls out a dagger from her pocket and stands over him.

The voices feel like they are cracking the inside of her skull, burning her lungs as they claw to get out.

Stiles is going to die.

Lydia opens her mouth and a scream tears out of her with such force it feels like the earth shifts around her. On instinct, her arms shoot out in front of her, reaching for Kate as if to choke her, and her scream follows her direction. The air visibly shifts, a narrow focused path that hits her full force, slamming into her and throwing her violently back into the ground at an odd angle with a resounding crack.

All around the creatures stop fighting, abruptly crumpling to the ground and dissolving into thin air like the empty shells they are.

Her scream fades out and the sudden silence bears heavily down on her and forces her to her knees.

The voices whisper to her that Kate is dead.

They promise her Stiles is safe.

Lydia takes a shuddering breath but it’s more difficult than it should be, like there’s a weight pressing on her chest and keeping her from getting enough oxygen.

Dimly she’s aware of hands on her shoulders and then her face, Allison asking her questions she can’t force herself to process. All she can think about is Stiles, who’s disappeared from her sight as everyone else gathers around him.

Pressing past her best friend, Lydia carefully crawls across the grass toward the group huddled on the ground, barely noticing how Derek and Argent move aside to let her through.

“—is okay,” she picks up the end of the Sheriff’s words as she crawls into the huddled group. “I promise she’ll be okay. But we need to get you—“

A small, helpless sob escapes Lydia at the sight of Stiles’s amber eyes, which turn dazedly to her at the abrupt sound.

He breathes her name, hands weakly reaching for her.

She crawls the last couple feet to his side in an instant, pressing her face into his neck and hugging his limp body with her trembling one.

“You were gonna die, Stiles…”

He slings his arm over her trembling back, holding her close. “You saved me.”

She nuzzles closer to him, tears running against his skin. When she pulls back, she tries to smiles for him as she takes his hand and squeezes it tight.

“Do you want to try to sit up?”

He gives a short nod and she and the sheriff help him to slowly come to a sit. He sways and nearly falls back but the sheriff catches him, holding him up while Lydia wraps her arm around his side. “Hey, Stiles, look at me,” she softly commands as she touches his face.

His eyes are hazy and unfocused when they turn to her, and she frowns at him in concern. “I think you have a concussion. Maybe a pretty bad one.”

“See, Stiles. Even Lydia agrees you need medical attention,” the Sheriff speaks up. His tired are worried of course but there’s an unmistakable warmth there too as he looks between his son and the banshee.

Stiles rolls his eyes but the simple action makes him dizzy and his dad has to shoot his hand out to his back to keep him up. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. Everyone’s right but me.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” Scott offers from the other side of the group.

“No, he should walk if he can,” Lydia answers for him. “Try to get his bearings back.”

“Plus, I don’t know if my masculinity can take another hit like that tonight, man,” Stiles tries to joke as he blinks to focus his eyes, “but thanks.”

“Of course,” Scott breathes with a small smile before it quickly fades as something else occurs to him. “What- uh- What do we do with…“ he trails off and nods over behind Lydia where they all know Kate’s body is waiting.

Lydia takes a deep breath, tries not to let herself think about what she did just yet.

“I’ll deal with it,” Argent speaks up, his lips in a grim, thin line.

Derek steps up solemnly. “I’ll help.”

“Then let’s go,” Allison quickly suggests, clearly wanting to get the hell out of there.

Lydia lets go of Stiles and gets to her feet on her own with surprisingly little trouble, the pressure in her chest easing more and more as the minutes pass.

Stiles has more difficulty though, the sheriff basically having to drag him to his feet. He sways there for a moment, but once he’s steady, it’s Lydia that he reaches out for.

She lets him lean on her, supporting his weight on her shoulder. He doesn’t move though, his eyes fixing on the body a few yards away.

Lydia can’t help but look too, numb at the sight even after seeing dozens of dead bodies before. It’s the first one that’s dead because of her.

Stiles squeezes her tight to his side and slowly takes a shaky step away.

She snaps her gaze away and guides him forward, holding him up as he takes a first step and then another.

They’re halfway to the road when Stiles’s lips press against the top of her head, taking a shaky breath against her soft locks. 

“I love you.”

Lydia leans into him, each of them supporting the other as they continue on. “I love you too.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that commented and left kudos on the last chapter! Hope you enjoy the new one!

It’s unnervingly quiet in the small hospital room and Stiles isn’t sure how much longer he can take it. Scott and Allison have tried to start up a conversation a few times but it’s quickly fizzled out into awkwardness because really none of them know what to say after yet another near death experience for one of the member’s of the pack.

Sighing, Stiles turns his attention to Lydia who sits silently at his bedside, holding his hand and staring off into nothing. Since the moment they’d gotten to the hospital, she’d become increasingly quiet and withdrawn in a way that makes him uneasy. It reminds him too much of when she didn’t have her voice and spent too much time in her head overthinking everything and fighting demons she refused to tell anyone were there.

He squeezes her hand and she startles slightly, her gaze finding his before the corner of her mouth tugs up into a melancholy smile.

Scott suddenly clears his throat. “So, uh, how’d you do that?”

The question hovers in the air for a moment before Lydia seems to absorb it, realizing that it’s meant for her only when the alpha’s gaze stays locked on her. Her cheeks heat up as she hesitates, looking to Stiles again only to find him watching her with restrained interest as well as if he wants to know the answer too but doesn’t want to press it.

“I’m not really sure,” she admits, dropping her gaze. “The voices kept getting louder and louder the closer it got to dawn until I couldn’t hear anything else. I knew what it meant. The way I screamed, how I focused it, it just happened. It was like an instinct kicked in to a power I didn’t even know I had.”

Stiles runs his thumb along the back of her hand, heart aching when she keeps her eyes focused on the ground. 

“I just don’t get what Kate thought she was going to do,” Allison speaks up, brow furrowed at the thought of her aunt.

“She said she was going to use me to turn her human again,” Stiles says with a shrug, “however the hell that was supposed to work.”

Allison opens her mouth to say something back but a knock at the door stops her before she can get the words out and the four of them turn to find Kira shyly creaking open the door. The nervous smile on her lips falters as she looks around the room and lingers on Scott and Allison sitting so close on the opposite side of Stiles’s bed from Lydia.

“H-Hi,” she stutters before she focuses on human sitting up in bed and forces herself to smile again. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Stiles.”

The human flashes a genuine smile, though he doesn’t miss the tension rising in the room. “Thanks, Kira.”

Scott pushes himself up from his chair and it squeaks loudly against the ground, a guilty look on his face suddenly for reasons the rest of the room can only guess at. “Kira, I—“

“Maybe we can talk outside?” she cuts him off, her dark eyes shining.

Solemnly the alpha nods, making a quick goodbye to his friends before following his girlfriend out into the hall.

“I should go too. Check in on my Dad,” Allison says, getting up herself, “Call me later, Lydia, okay?”

The banshee nods and forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes as she watches her best friend leave as well.

Silence fills the room again once it’s just Stiles and Lydia and it’s heavy and overwhelming in a way it hasn’t been between them in a long time.

Stiles tries to catch her gaze but she drops it again to their hands and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. He wants to say something just to fill the air but it feels like he should wait, like she’s trying to work through something important and for him to speak up would make it somehow worse.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, gradually lifting her full green eyes to meet his confused gaze. “I should have been able to figure it out before you were hurt. I wanted to be a banshee again so I could help and I _couldn’t_ — I couldn’t stop this from happening.”

“Hey, no,” he breathes, shaking his head. “You saved my life. I’m still here because you wrote those numbers and you figured out what they meant. Your scream stopped Kate from killing me.” He pauses and swallows roughly. “ _I’m_ sorry, Lyds. I’m so sorry you had to kill someone for me—“

“I’m not,” she cuts in, her tone steady and sure. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

Stiles eyes dart back and forth between hers for a moment as the power of her words sink in. He can feel them resonating through out him because he feels the same way. He’d do anything he had to if it was to keep her safe.

“If you were going to apologize for anything, it should be for breaking your promise,” she says, a lilt in her tone as if she’s trying to lighten the mood but with the way her bottom lip suddenly quivers and her eyes fill with unshed tears, it’s anything but lighthearted. “You _promised_ you’d stay safe.”

Stiles heart crumbles. “Lyds…”

“I know, I know. It’s an impossible promise to keep. I just wish things weren’t like this all the time, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” he says softly before gently tugging on her hand. “Come here.”

Breathing shakily, she climbs out of her chair and into bed next to him. Instantly the two of the curl together, Lydia pressing her palm over his heart while he brushes his lips against her hair. Both of them go quiet once again but this time it’s comfortable and full of things that don’t need to be said out loud.

“You know you can’t fall asleep, right?” Lydia whispers when she notices the rise and fall of his chest evening out beneath her palm.

Stiles groans and opens his eyes, stretching out of his comfy position. “Ugh, fiiiine,” he whines, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Then keep me awake. Tell me something; something good.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, anything.” He shrugs. “Like what are we doing this weekend now that we don’t have a supernatural threat hanging over our heads?”

She contemplates his question for a moment before her lips curve into a smirk. “This weekend you are finally going to let me help you with calculus.”

He groans and rolls his eyes. “I said something good.”

“That is good.”

“That’s _torturous_.”

Now it’s her turn to rolls her eyes. “It’s really not.” She watches in amusement as he grumbles to himself and something about it is so _Stiles_ that it warms her heart. “Look, with my IQ, long list of AP classes, and perfect GPA, I will undoubtably be attending a very good college. Now, if you have any intention of attending with me, you need to at least maintain your current GPA if not bump it up slightly if at all possible. So maybe in the short term spending a weekend working on calculus doesn’t scream ‘good’ but in the long run I assure you it will be worth it.”

Stiles swallows roughly, amber eyes suddenly watery and wide. “You want to go to college with me?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Like this is something you’ve actually, voluntarily thought about before?”

She shrugs, turning a bit shy. “Maybe it’s crossed my mind once or twice.”

A grin spreads across his face as he gazes at her in awe. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing just... You _love_ me.”

Her cheeks heat up at the way he says it with such wonderment. “I’ve told you that several times now.”

“Doesn’t make it any less amazing.”

Her emotions catch in her throat. “Stiles…”

He leans in and kisses her, soft and lingering, before pulling back with his amber eyes warm. “So you’ll help me master calculus and then we’ll sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.”

“How romantic.”

“I try.”

She lets out a breathless laugh as the door clicks open, the sheriff stepping in to the room. 

“Hey you two,” he calls out, the corner of his eyes crinkling with happiness, “Melissa says your scan looks good. Really good actually. Just a standard, run of the mill concussion.”

Stiles let’s out a breath of relief, knowing his father means all the damage that showed up in his scan before the Nogitsune took over is nowhere to be found.

“That’s great,” Lydia agrees as she pulls herself from Stiles’s arms, a bit shy in front of his father.

“Even better is that means we can get the hell out of here.”

“Really?” Stiles perks up, sitting up straighter.

“You bet, kiddo. But I have to warn you, Melissa has given me strict instructions that you must be woken up every two hours tonight no matter what to make sure everything is still okay.” He pauses and nods toward the strawberry blonde. “But I’m hoping Lydia is willing to help out with that.”

Lydia raises her brow, sharing a look with Stiles. “You want me to stay over? Are you sure that’s okay?”

“I’m very sure. In fact, I’d prefer if you did so I don’t have to worry if my concussed son is sneaking out and driving around town to get to your house.”

Stiles eyes widen, his mouth gaping open. “I have no idea why you’d think I would do such a thing.”

“Oh, come on. You really think I don’t know you’ve been staying at Lydia’s every night for the last few weeks?” the older man laughs. “I am the Sheriff, kiddo, and while there may be a low conviction rate in this town, I promise it’s because of the supernatural, not because I can’t put together some fairly obvious clues.”

“Duly noted,” Stiles says as he tries to read his father’s demeanor. “Does this mean I can just tell you when I’m staying over at Lydia’s or she can just come over to our house without having to sneak in?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what it means, kid,” the Sheriff admits, his tired eyes soft. “All I know is that you’ve both been through a lot, nearly died more times than I’m willing count, and maybe I don’t feel like getting hung up on something that seems a bit trivial at the moment.”

The corner of Stiles’s mouth pulls up into a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Now, ask me again in a few weeks, after parent teacher conferences… Maybe I won’t feel so sentimental,” the sheriff amends. “Especially if you’ve been writing about circumcisions in Economics again.”

Lydia laughs out loud. “You didn’t really do that, did you?”

“It was a completely accurate account of a very important part of human history.”

“That you wrote on your _economics_ final,” his father reminds him.

“Well don’t worry, Lydia’s already got plans to up my GPA by forcing me to spend the weekend studying.”

“Oh does she now?” the sheriff wonders, his interest piqued as he grins at the banshee. “You know, I’m liking you more and more the longer you’re around, Lydia.”

 

———

 

“Feeling okay?” Lydia asks as they ascend the stairs in the Stilinski house, her grip on his hand tight.

He nods and gives her a tired smile. “Fine, just glad to be home. Glad that you’re here.”

She smiles back, running a hand up and down his arm as he opens the door to his bedroom, still assuring herself that he’s there and he’s really alright after all that’s happened. Both of them pause to find the room isn’t empty though, a lone figure seated at the edge of the bed illuminated by the twilight fading through the window.

“Scott?”

The werewolf flinches, whipping his gaze to his best friend as if he hadn’t heard him at all until he’d said his name. “Oh hey,” he greets dazedly before he notices Lydia there as well. “Hi Lydia.”

“Hey Scott,” Lydia says, furrowing her brow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just—“ he starts before cutting himself off and shaking his head. “Sorry, man, my mom let me know you were released but I didn’t realize you weren’t coming home alone… I should go.”

“No, you don’t need to go,” Stiles immediately counters, concern lacing his voice. “You need to tell us what’s going on since something clearly is.”

Scott hesitates looking back and forth between the human and the banshee before letting out a huge breath and dropping his gaze to the ground. Elbows on his knees, he runs his hands through his hair before quietly confessing, “Kira broke up with me.”

Stiles and Lydia share a look before they hesitantly cross the room. Stiles takes a seat next to his best friend on the bed while Lydia settles on the floor in front of her boyfriend, both of them watching Scott with concern.

“I’m sorry, man,” Stiles says and rests his hand on his best friend’s back. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Scott retorts, rolling his eyes at himself self-deprecatingly. “The worst part is that I feel so completely awful about it and it’s not because she’s not my girlfriend anymore. I feel awful because she was right to do it. I hurt her without even realizing what I was doing. Everything she said was completely true.”

“What did she say?” Lydia softly prods.

Scott bites his lip hard. “We had a plan for last night, you know? I was supposed to pick up Kira before we all met at the spot. But once you called and told me Stiles was missing, everything fell apart. I totally forgot about Kira. I called Allison instead.” The alpha takes a shaky breath. “Kira said I did that because I’m still in love with Allison. She said it wasn’t fair to her to keep dating when I’m clearly nowhere near over her. And she’s right… I’m such an asshole.”

“You are definitely not an asshole,” Stiles immediately corrects him. “Scott, you are the kindest person I’ve ever known. You care about everyone and everything so much. Still loving Allison doesn’t make you a bad person and I’m sure Kira doesn’t think it does either.”

Scott sighs to himself, still seemingly unconvinced but trying to push away his emotions. “Whatever. I should really go and let you guys rest—“

“You should stay,” Lydia suddenly cuts in and both boys look over at her a bit surprised. She forces a small smile, shrugging at the curious looks on their faces. “I could use some help keeping tabs on Stiles, you know? I was just going to set the alarm on my phone to wake him up every couple hours but if something went wrong your alpha senses would pick up on it immediately.”

Stiles quickly nods, catching on to his girlfriend’s intentions. “Yeah, man, it would probably be a good idea if you were here too. Just incase, you know?”

“Plus we could watch a movie or something,” Lydia continues. “I mean, Stiles is always trying to get me to watch Star Wars.”

“Oh, Lydia, please don’t tease me like that unless you plan to follow through.”

A small laugh escapes the werewolf at that, though it doesn’t last long, and Stiles and Lydia share a smile at the small victory.

“Yeah, he’s always trying to get me to watch it too,” Scott agrees, before he chews on his lip in momentary contemplation. “If you’re sure it’s okay?”

“Of course, dude.”

“Okay, just let me call my mom and let her know.” Scott pushes himself to his feet and heads for the hallway as he pulls his cell phone from his pocket.

“Hey, Scott?” Lydia calls out to him before he disappears, waiting until he turns and raises a curious brow at her as he hovers in the doorway. “It will work out, okay? Someday it’ll all work out.”

The alpha’s brow furrows as he tries to read the subtext behind Lydia’s words. Eventually, the crease in his brow eases, the tension in him lessening as a small smile curls his lips as he nods. “Thanks, Lydia.”

The banshee nods back, smiling back as she watches him walk away. She turns back to look up at her boyfriend and before she can blink his lips are on hers, soft and warm.

“Thank you,” he murmurs when he pulls away, his nose grazing her cheek.

“You don’t need to thank me. He’s my friend too.”

“I know. It still means a lot to me.” He leans in and brushes his lips against hers again. “Just like it means so much that you’ve finally agreed to watch Star Wars.”

“God, I’m already regretting this,” she sighs and rolls her eyes. “You do realize that you need to rest while we watch this, right? Like _lay-on-the-couch-and-remain-silent_ resting. No impassioned rants or spastic movements—“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never act like that.”

Her gaze narrows on him at the ridiculous statement and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“Fine. I will quietly lay on the couch and keep my commentary to a minimum through the entire original Star Wars and as many of the sequels as we make it through as long as you are there sitting next to me.”

“I think I can manage that.” She rests her hands against his knees and pushes herself up to her feet, giving him a quick peck on the corner of his mouth before she stands. Offering him her hand, she helps pull him to up as well but when he stumbles slightly on his feet, her arms fly out to wrap around his middle.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he quickly promises, flooding with guilt as she scrutinizes him with fear and worry in her green eyes for at least the hundredth time that day, her grip tight on his sides. “Just a little head rush.”

Pressing her lips together in a frown, her gaze darts across his face as she tries to assess for herself the validity of his words. “Stiles…“

“I’m okay. I swear,” he tries again and cups her cheek with the palm of his hand. “I’m fine, Lyds.”

She closes her eyes at his touch, her features softening as she lets out a shaky breath. “Sorry, I’m just—”

“I know.”

They share a look, a million emotions passing between them without a word spoken. After a moment her shoulders fall as she relaxes, dropping her head to his chest as she leans into him. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and hugs her tight, tucking her head under his chin.

“Hey—“ Scott’s voice suddenly cuts through the air and both of them turn to find hesitating in the doorway, looking regretful for interrupting the couple. “Sorry, I…”

“It’s cool, dude,” Stiles reassures him as he slowly pulls back from his girlfriend, keeping an arm slung around her shoulders. “You ready to watch the greatest movie ever made?”

“Don’t really know if I’m up for the greatest move ever, but I’m definitely ready to watch _Star Wars_.”

“Ouch, Scott. Ouch.”

Lydia laughs under her breath and drops her head to Stiles’s shoulder.

“Oh, your dad was walking by when I got off the phone and when I told him what we were doing, he insisted on joining. He actually seemed a little excited,” Scott says. “He went downstairs to set up the DVD and make popcorn.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles nods and grins to himself, feeling a bit warm and fuzzy at the idea of spending some time with the most important people in his life after all that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Lydia loops an arm around his waist, her fingers hugging his side and when he looks down at her, he can tell from the look in her eyes that she knows exactly what’s going through his mind. She doesn’t say anything, just smiles up at him and let’s him lead her toward the door.

“Oh, wait,” she suddenly blurts when they’ve almost reached the door. Pulling out of his hold, she quickly crosses the room back to his bed and snatches up his pillow. “You need to be resting, remember?”

He bites back a smile as she tosses the pillow at him and he catches it mid-air before hugging it to his chest. “Whatever you say, nurse Martin.”

She rolls her eyes at him fondly, grabbing his hand and tugging him to follow Scott downstairs. “Don’t push it, Stilinski.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Martin.”


End file.
